Irradiance
by MelusinaHP
Summary: Al starts Hogwarts knowing exactly who he is and what he wants from life. When the things he takes for granted fall away, he holds fast to the one truth that remains - he loves Scorpius and he'll do whatever it takes to keep him safe.
1. Year 1

**Title:** Irradiance (1/7, complete)

**Rating:** R

**Word Count:** 48,400

**This Chapter:** 3,576

**Pairing:** Albus Severus/Scorpius

**Warnings:** character death

**Disclaimer:** All Harry Potter characters herein are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No copyright infringement is intended.

**Summary:** Al starts Hogwarts knowing exactly who he is and what he wants from life. When the things he takes for granted fall away, he holds fast to the one truth that remains - he loves Scorpius and he'll do whatever it takes to keep him safe.

So, so much gratitude to my amazing, talented and hard-working betas Marguerite_26 and Kennahijja, who went beyond the call of duty and helped me make this a better fic.

Written for nextgendarkfest on Livenournal, based on the following prompt:

His ghost is living in the walls  
I heard him crying while you slept  
I heard him breaking things after you left

I watched you crawl into my bed  
With curses spilling from your head  
You said, "We're just the walking dead"  
So I pulled the trigger and we floated off

Into the air

- Wrapped in Piano Strings, Radical Face

With a beatific smile, Scorpius turned toward the sun. Al squinted and tightened his grip on his broom. It had been so long. Such a long time since he'd seen Scorpius's cheeks shine, since there had been light in his eyes. And now Scorpius positively glowed, illuminated in pure golden sunlight that swept away the shadows - a bright and vivid flame. His white hair whipped about in the wind, and he laughed, head thrown back.

_Scorpius_.

The wind tore away everything but the sound of Al's own heart pounding hard in his chest.

_Scorpius, please_.

Year 1

Gryffindor. _Gryffindor_. Al squeezed his eyes shut tight and concentrated as hard as he could.

"Gryffindor, ay?" The Hat's voice echoed through his head. "Hmm. Yes. I do see courage. A different sort than your brother's, but nevertheless. Although there's loyalty and dedication too." The hat paused. "And a gentle spirit." Al tightened his grip on the stool below him. "You'd be happier in Hufflepuff, young Potter."

His skin went cold. _Gryffindor_. Please. My father said I could choose.

The hat kept silent.

Then, "A fierce willingness to protect those you love." There was another pause, long enough for Al to consider that if he were sick while being sorted, he would never, ever live it down. Finally, the hat continued.

"Very well. Gryffindor!"

It took Al a few seconds to realise that the hat had spoken aloud. Too numb with relief to fully process his victory, he tore the hat off his head before it could change its mind, and ran. His new housemates's cheers and applause formed a piercing roar. He slid into the seat next to James, breathing hard.

"Stop crying, wet nellie," said James, wrapping an arm around Al's neck and fluffing his hair. "You're one of us now."

Al nodded and wiped his eyes with his sleeve, refusing to look up. _You'd be happier in Hufflepuff_. Stupid hat.

"Hat took its time deciding." James grabbed a handful of Al's hair and shook his head back and forth. Al made a noise of protest and pushed him away. "Almost put you in Slytherin, did it? I told you so."

"It did _not_ almost put me in Slytherin. It said it saw _courage_."

"'Course it did. You're a Potter."

With a shuddering breath, Al looked up at James, and then blinked. James grinned down at him, and his eyes shone in a way that Al had never seen before, at least not when James was looking at him.

It was over. It had happened. Al was in Gryffindor.

He broke into a huge smile and then laughed, feeling light-headed and dizzy enough that he had to grab the table to keep from falling backwards.

He couldn't wait to tell his dad.

The end of Al's first week at Hogwarts left him exhausted and craving a quiet moment to himself. Beagán, Kristoph, Matt and Roddy - Al's dorm mates - were all brilliant blokes, but Roddy's mum had sent him a box full of Fizzing Whizbees and exploding bon-bons. Al had the choice of either joining in, which he wasn't up to, or cloistering himself behind tied-shut bed-curtains, which would make him look like a stuck-up prat. Instead, he claimed homework responsibilities and crept down to the common room.

Some of the fifth years were playing indoor Quidditch. Al dodged a boy leaping after the Snitch and edged around the back of the room. A group of older girls squealed and tried to grab him, calling him a 'mini-Harry Potter', so he twisted away and crawled under a table. The boy and a girl using it to play wizard chess shouted at each other about whether the girl's last move actually counted. There, by the fire, was an empty armchair. He ran for it, jumped and claimed it. Curling up, he hugged his knees to his chest. The warmth of the fire slid softly over his skin. He tried to block out the unceasing noise and commotion going on around him.

In a few hours his dorm mates would be tired out and Al could return to his room and go to bed.

"Oi! Munchkin. Up. That's my spot."

Al started and tore his eyes away from the fire to focus on Bran Brachus, a sixth year, looming in front of him. If Al didn't move, Bran would only knock him out of the chair, so he scrambled up and moved away.

It was still an hour until curfew.

He climbed through the portrait hole and stood there. There had to be somewhere he could find a little peace and privacy, somewhere to clear his head. He set off walking, not sure where he was headed. At least the corridors were quiet.

After walking past a statue of a tall, thin man, Al descended a staircase. He really hoped he wouldn't get lost. The castle was like a maze and even paying close attention to where you were going didn't mean you'd be able to find your way back by retracing your steps. He passed a bathroom and then went down another staircase.

He saw another statue, this one of a confused looking wizard, and then stopped short. Professor Smith, the DADA teacher, was marching straight towards him, his lips pursed.

"What are you doing here at this time of night, Potter?"

"It's not curfew yet, sir." Professor Smith had seemed to take an instant dislike to Al. Al had no idea why.

"You shouldn't be wandering the school on your own. Are you looking for trouble? Think you take after your father, do you?" He spoke so quickly, Al didn't have a chance to answer. "Get back to Gryffindor Tower now before I take away points."

"But, sir. I was just…"

"Just what?" He moved closer to Al and started clicking his fingers right in Al's face. "What?"

Al took a step back. "G- going to the… library."

"The library? Then where are your books?"

"I need to _get_ a book." Al hunched his shoulders and tried not to scowl. "That's why I'm going."

"Make it quick."

Al moved around him and headed towards the staircase.

"And five points from Gryffindor for… wandering," Professor Smith called after Al.

The library was blessedly quiet. Al quickly grabbed a book off a shelf without looking. Most of the tables were already taken, but towards the back there was one that was almost empty. Its only occupant was a boy with bright blue hair who looked to be another first year. As Al moved towards him, the boy flipped through the book in front of him, barely looking at each page for more than a second. Al sat down and quietly said, "You can't actually be reading that."

The boy looked up, startled, and it took a moment for his eyes to focus on Al. He blinked. "I read fast."

"No one reads that fast."

He shrugged one shoulder. "I do."

Not only was the boy's hair bright blue, but his blue and bronze tie hung crooked and his robes looked rumpled.

"Why is your hair blue? Are you a Metamorphmagus?"

"My hair is blue?"

"Yeah. Bright blue."

"Colour-change Charm. Must be them." He shot a glance towards a table several yards away around which sat a group of Ravenclaws of various years. A girl with dark blonde hair giggled and whispered to the others when she saw the boy looking at them. There was a soft bubbling of laughter and then louder 'Shhh!'s from the older students.

"They're always doing things to me." He lifted his wand to his head and said, "_Finite_." His hair shimmered then faded to silvery-blond.

"That's… Why? You shouldn't let them."

Another shrug. "It amuses them, I suppose. Father says I'm not to let it bother me. I'm smarter than the lot of them combined, and they're bound to be envious."

Al's eyes widened.

"It's not boasting if it's true," said the boy. His eyes darted to meet Al's and then quickly moved back to the text. Twin spots of red bloomed on his cheeks.

Swallowing his urge to argue in the face of the boy's embarrassment, Al just shrugged. "I wish I could read that fast. It takes me ages just to-"

"And anyway," the boy interrupted, "you're a Potter and you think you own the world."

Al's own cheeks heated. "That something else your father told you?"

"Yes." The boy stared down at the book, lips pressed together. The page crackled between his trembling fingers. Al noticed that his fingernails had been bitten to the quick.

He looked away. "Well… I don't think that."

The boy stayed silent. Enough time must have passed for the crowd in the Gryffindor common room to thin.

Just as Al began to push away from the table, the boy spoke up in a voice loud enough to carry through the library. "I need to be getting on with my schoolwork now." Another burst of giggles floated over from the table of Ravenclaws. The blush had spread entirely across the boy's cheeks.

"All right." Al stood and fidgeted, trying to think of something that would give the boy back his equilibrium. "Um… Okay," he finally said, and then, not knowing what else to do, left to return to Gryffindor Tower.

The common room had become quiet. Only a few people remained, chatting or doing last minute homework. Al wandered up the stairs to his dorm, changed into his pyjamas, and quickly fell asleep.

He ran into the strange blond boy again the following morning as they entered the Great Hall for breakfast. The boy stared at Al and Al stared back.

"Shove off, twerp," said James, shouldering the boy out of the way and dragging Al towards the Gryffindor table. The boy barely reacted to James's shove. He just turned and walked over to the Ravenclaw table. Al noticed that he chose to sit at a distance from the other members of his house and something in his stomach twisted.

"Who was that?" asked Al as he stumbled along.

"_Scorpius_ Malfoy," said James. "That's Draco Malfoy's son. It figures he'd be a prat."

"He seems okay to me."

"What do you know?"

Beagán spied Al and waved him over. Al slid in next to him. There was black pudding for breakfast and Al helped himself.

It was some time before he thought of Scorpius Malfoy again.

They'd been at Aunt Hermione and Uncle Ron's house during the Easter holidays when the Patronus - a fat, silvery goose - arrived to summon Al's dad to the office. His dad sighed and his mum sighed louder. James, Hugo, and Lily were playing Chase the Snitch on their brooms. Rose was practicing magical embroidery. Dad kissed Mum goodbye and was almost out the door when he paused, cloak half on, and turned to Al.

"You want to come with me, Al?"

Al jumped up and went to take his father's hand.

The shelves in Al's dad's office were full of interesting things. There was a jar full of delicate-looking golden Probity Probes, which fanned out like a strange, metallic plant. There was a grey-bound book that would change colour if you lied while it was in your hand. The colour it changed to depended on how dirty a lie you told. The last time they'd been in the office, James had picked it up and proclaimed, "Al is a great, giant nancy-boy," before their dad had snatched it away from him. Al frowned at it now.

There was a box filled with dusty plaques and framed parchments that his father never got around to sticking to his walls. There was the shelf holding a collection of little toy men, each with a lightning-bolt scar and tiny glasses. Every year Uncle George gave Dad the latest 'Harry Potter action figure' for Christmas, spelled to follow him around, squeaking things like, 'Die, Voldemort, Die' and 'I'm Harry Potter' until they were put on display. They gave Al the creeps, but James liked to make them fight each other.

Being in his dad's office gave Al a funny tingle in his stomach. At home Dad came downstairs in his dressing gown in the morning with his hair sticking up on one side of his head and plastered to his cheek on the other. He cut his toenails in the lounge and got yelled at by Mum. He charmed Chocoballs to float in the corridor and then zoom out of reach when anyone tried to eat them. He yelled when he was tired, he shouted at news broadcasts on the wireless, he challenged James to belching contests that made Lily shriek and run out of the room.

When Al's dad strode, tall and imposing, through the Atrium of the Ministry of Magic, however, he nodded to people rather than smiling. A skinny, young wizard carrying a sheaf of files stopped short and stared, his mouth open. A witch in tight, black robes stepped directly in front of Al's dad, cutting him off. A sheet of parchment and a long, green quill floated next to her. She tried to speak, but was chased off by one quick, cold glare.

The crowd parted and Al's dad moved forward like he didn't even notice. Al hurried along at his side.

Then, in the lift, Al's dad glanced down at him. Al stared back up at his father, feeling strangely shy. His dad winked, light breaking through the clouds, and Al beamed.

Once they were in the Department for Magical Law Enforcement, Dad's shoulders relaxed and he slowed his pace. By the time they reached Auror Headquaters, he wore an easy smile. As it was Saturday, there were only a couple people at their desks. Dad waved at them and made his way towards his office at the back of the room.

"There you are, Mr Potter." Betty, Dad's secretary, bustled up to them. "I'm so sorry for disturbing your weekend, but Burne absolutely insisted that he speak to you right away."

"S'all right, Betty." His dad swatted away a memo.

"Shall I look after Albus?"

Dad turned to Al and cocked his head to the side. "You want to watch, Al? Or you can wait out here. I'm sure Betty can rummage up some cocoa and biscuits."

"I want to watch!" Al didn't even hesitate. His father grinned.

Betty fluttered about as they walked into Dad's office. "But Mr Potter. He'll be wanting to discuss… I'm not sure it's suitable for-"

"Al's old enough." He took off his cloak and hung it on a hook on the back of the office door. "Older then I was when I saw worse. I'm not going to do him any favours by hiding the truth about the world from him."

Al made a beeline for the huge desk chair, while Dad crossed the room to sit in the low floo-seat and then threw a handful of ashes into the fireplace. Green flames roared to life, and a man with a heavy face and a grim expression appeared.

"How's the weather in Hamburg?" asked Al's dad.

"Grey," replied Burne.

Al leaned forward to hear what they were saying, but Betty suddenly appeared at his side.

"Can I get you some cocoa, precious? A plate of biscuits?"

"Er, sure. Thanks."

She shot a worried glance towards Dad, but then left. Al spun the chair round once, then turned his attention towards the conversation.

His dad leant forward, elbows resting on his knees, his brow creased.

"…four more deaths, all in a similar pattern," Burne was saying. "We're watching them, but they're smart. We can't get anyone inside."

"And you think it's to do with the new legislation?"

"Definitely. They're all British, each and every one of them. It was an archaic law, but Broken Spectre aren't happy about seeing it abolished."

There was a silence. Dad took off his glasses and rubbed at the bridge of his nose.

"It's the sudden activity in the Schatten Quarter that's particularly worrying," said Burne. "They're organising. We just don't know what they're organising."

Betty arrived, carrying a tray laden with a plate full of biscuits and an enormous mug of cocoa topped with whipped cream. "Here you go, dear." She placed the tray on Dad's desk.

"Thanks." Al wondered if she really thought he could eat that many biscuits. He lifted the mug and got to work on the tower of whipped cream, disappointed to have lost the thread of his dad's conversation.

Betty hovered. After a moment, she spoke.

"Are you proud of your father, Albus?"

He shrugged, feeling his cheeks heat. "Sure."

"Well you should be. He's a hero."

Al stared up at her. One New Year's Day there'd been a broadcast on the wireless in which various people were interviewed about the 'Legend of Harry Potter'. Al's dad had listened, muttering under his breath about _lies and exaggerations_ and _she wasn't even bloody there_ and _how the hell are the kids going to have normal lives when they keep spreading this nonsense_. His face had grown redder and redder until Al's mum had suddenly laughed really loud and said, "I doubt any of them would call you a 'hero' if they'd seen you Christmas night, drunk off your arse on firewhisky and singing the Hogwarts school song with Ron."

There was a silence. Al's dad's face remained thunderous. Then the corner of his mouth had twitched and turned upwards. In another moment they were all laughing, and his face had gone back to its normal colour.

"Yeah!" said James. "Or covered in mud after you fell off your broom in the garden yesterday."

"Or… Or… Or when you did that huge burp after dinner!" piped up Lily.

"Or when you were wearing the fuzzy jumper Grandma Molly gave you and it made your hair stick up like a dandelion clock." Al ducked, but the pillow Dad had thrown hit him anyway.

Al blinked.

The woman's eyes were round and shiny behind her spectacles.

"I'm really proud of him," said Al.

"Well, you make sure you're the best boy you can be." She reached out and pinched Al's cheek before he could flinch away. "He deserves children who will make _him_ proud."

There was a loud sigh, and Al looked up to see his dad standing on the far side of his desk. "Betty." He raised his eyebrows. "Al couldn't fail to make me proud."

"Oh, I know." She flapped her hand.

He moved to pat her on the back. "Thank you for coming in. Now go home to Walter and enjoy the rest of your weekend."

"Thank you, Mr Potter." She beamed at him and then scuffled off.

Dad closed his office door. He walked over to Al, took the mug of cocoa and set it on the desk. Then he gave the chair a hard spin, making Al yell and laugh as he spun round.

After he'd stopped being dizzy, Al asked, "What happened to the people in Hamburg?"

His father looked at him. "They were killed. The murders used dark magic to set off Scorching Blasts, and they killed everyone in area. Fortunately, it was late at night, so there weren't many people around."

The happy buzz in Al's stomach fizzled away. "Why… Why did they do that?"

Dad put his hand on Al's head and combed his fingers through his hair. "They're angry about things going on in the government."

"But people died. They killed people."

With a nod, Dad squeezed Al's shoulder and then reached for his cloak. "And that's what I'm here for, Al. To stop people like them from hurting others. That's what I do."

Al remained still as his father fastened his cloak, something nipping at the edges of his mind and making him uncomfortable. "I don't understand," he finally said. "How can they hurt people like that without feeling really horrible about it?"

Dad looked at Al. Then he knelt down. "I'll tell you what I believe. Sometimes things happen to people that make them feel like the whole world is against them. They're angry, so they pick out someone or something to blame. And anger, if left too long, turns to hate.

"That's where dark magic comes from - hate and anger left so long that it destroys people's ability to feel for each other. We don't hurt others, because we care for them. But sometimes the part of a person that lets them care gets damaged. Maybe they've been hurt so badly that they can't see other people as anything other than a threat. Maybe they've been taught that other people don't matter as much as they do. Maybe they've been taught to hate and fear anyone different."

Dad's face was still and intent. Al thought about people setting off Scorching Blasts and about his dad trying to find them and stop them. A line formed between Dad's eyebrows. "Hey," he said. "Hey, Al. It happened in Germany, far away from here."

Al nodded.

His dad continued, "And we're going to find them and stop them. All right?"

Al nodded again and took hold of his father's hand. He kept a hold of it even as they walked though the Aurors's Office and didn't let go until they exited the lift and moved back into the Atrium.


	2. Year 2

Year 2

In the sitting room rested a piano. Lily had made an off-hand comment about wanting to learn how to play, and Mum had bought it in a fit of misguided enthusiasm. It took three months of decreasing practise hours and increasing shouting matches between Mum and Lily for the piano to become an oversized and occasionally noisy end table.

On the piano sat the photographs. They'd been scattered over various mantels and dressing tables, but when Al was ten, Mum had moved them all to the piano. Over the fireplace, they had been invisible. Once they were placed all together, like a kind of gallery of the dead, Al couldn't stop looking at them.

The woman with the wild, pink hair and the laughing eyes was 'Tonks'. She'd been an Auror. Teddy's mum. She'd been murdered by Bellatrix Lestrange during the battle of Hogwarts. The other man in the photo - the one with greying hair and dark circles under his eyes - was her husband, Remus. He'd been dad's professor for a short period of time. Also killed at Hogwarts.

Some of the people in the photos were very young. The small, blond boy named Colin looked younger than Teddy. And there was Fred, so similar to George, but smooth-skinned and laughing. Al found it hard to believe his uncle had ever been that carefree.

Dumbledore and Severus Snape, the men who had given Al his names, held pride of place in the centre of the group. Then there were the people who'd been dead for ages: Dad's parents, Sirius Black, Mum's uncles Gideon and Fabian. Almost all of them waved at Al and smiled. They were happy. They didn't know they were dead. But they were.

Al wondered how a person could live through that much loss, have that much first hand knowledge of the evil of which human beings were capable, without losing his mind. Yet his dad didn't walk around acting like his heart was broken. He laughed and smiled and joked. And Al knew that he was the reason that his dad was able to go through life that way.

Him, and Lily and James, of course, but mostly him. Al.

So Al knew that he could never, ever do anything that would make the light in his father's eyes dim even for a second.

He made the decision during the summer between his first and second year of Hogwarts. His dad was dozing in one of the huge, squishy armchairs in the conservatory, a copy of the _Prophet_ splayed over his face to block out the sun. The paper rose and fell as he began to snore.

Al had been reading a Martin Miggs comic and his own eyes were starting to close. It was a hot day and the room was suffused with sunlight. James was in the garden, de-gnoming with Mum. Lily, perched high in a tree, threw unripe crab apples periodically at James's head until Mum shouted at her to come and join them. Lily shrieked that she wouldn't, garden gnomes were horrible and she wouldn't touch one if you paid her a million galleons.

A bumblebee landed on Al's nose, startling him into wakefulness. He sat up and rubbed his eyes, his comic sliding to the floor. Dad gave a particularly loud snore. The newspaper fluttered.

The headline caught Al's attention.

'_Three Injured, One killed, in Diagon Alley Robbery_'

First his stomach dropped. As he skimmed the article, his skin went cold. It wasn't as though he'd never seen a news story like that before. It was that Mum was laughing as James chased Lily around the garden, swinging a mud-covered gnome out in front of him, and Dad was sleeping in the sunlight… And somewhere out there was a man who had cursed a woman's legs off for the sake of stealing a shipment of rare books.

That woman could have been his mum. Or his Aunt Hermione. Or Teddy's Gran. People like that man, that thief, were _wrong_ and they had to be stopped. Al sat up; his hands curled into fists.

He looked up to see his mum standing beside him, her hair tied messily back and her face streaked with mud. "All right, Al?" She smiled, but there was a crease between her eyebrows.

"I'm going to be an Auror," he said.

Her eyebrows went up.

"Bollocks to that!" James tromped in. "They don't let great, huge nancy-boys be Aurors."

"Shut up. They don't let pillocks be anything."

"Language," said Mum, one hand on her hip.

"If Al wants to be an Auror, then he'll be an Auror."

Al turned to see that his Dad had woken up. Their eyes met and Dad smiled. A prickle of warmth bloomed in Al's chest, chasing away the chill of the news article. Then Lily rushed in, a streak of red chaos, and jumped on top of Dad, breaking their gaze as Dad fell back, laughing.

Al closed his eyes and concentrated on holding onto the moment.

Scorpius Malfoy didn't seem all that remarkable to Al, but Rose wouldn't shut up about him. Al brushed his fringe out of his eyes to get a better look. Scorpius stood on the train platform, eyes blank, smiling his small, ever-present smile and humming to himself. His hair hung in his face and his fingers moved ceaselessly over the shiny metal orbs he always seemed to carry around.

Strike that. Scorpius Malfoy was weird.

"I'm sure he cheats. No one could get marks that high without studying all the time." Rose rocked on her feet, already dressed in her robes and Ravenclaw tie.

"The day a Malfoy needs to cheat to best a Weasley in academics is the day the Chudley Cannons win the European Cup. Meaning never."

Al blinked and looked up to see Scorpius's father looming over them. He was tall and wearing severe black robes, all posture and polish. Rose squeaked and grabbed Al's arm, but then pulled herself together enough to say, "Dad says the Cannons have a very good chance this year!"

"You shouldn't believe everything your father tells you, dear." The corner of Mr Malfoy's mouth curled up. He whispered, "He's not very bright."

With an angry gasp, Rose put her hands on her hips. "Well! I-"

A large, warm presence materialised behind Al. "Still terrorising children, Malfoy?" It was Al's dad. He placed a hand on Al's shoulder and smiled while giving Mr Malfoy a very direct look. "Bit old for that, aren't you?"

The amusement in Mr Malfoy's eyes fizzled. He gestured towards Rose. "She's one of Granger's, isn't she? I recognise the hair. You can tell her mother that if she doesn't want her children 'terrorised' she should teach them not to spread spurious rumours just because," he looked down at Rose, "they're jealous."

"Jealous of Scorpius? That little freak? I'd sooner-"

"Stop it, Rose." Al's heart fluttered and his face went hot. Rose turned to him and he saw that her eyes were full. He shrugged an apology at her, knowing it was that one word - freak - and the way it had made Mr Malfoy's cheeks flush that had made him speak.

"Right," said Al's dad. "Enough." As he ushered Al and Rose away in that manner he had of making you move exactly where he wanted you to go just by tapping you with his fingers, Al shot a final glance back towards the Malfoys.

Scorpius remained oblivious, gazing fixedly at the approaching train as his mother smoothed the collar of his robes. Mr Malfoy, however, looked straight at Al, his eyes slightly narrowed. Of its own volition, Al's mouth twitched into a small smile. His pulse jumped. Mr Malfoy raised one eyebrow and gave him a nod. Then he turned, robes billowing as he walked. Once he reached Scorpius he lifted up his son's chin and bent down to kiss him on the forehead. Scorpius eyes cleared and he grinned. Just before the crowd surged between them, blocking Al's view, Scorpius moved forward and hugged his father.

Late on a Saturday morning during their third week back at school, Al, Beagán, and Kristoph wandered out of the Castle and down towards the lake. Beagán was determined to claim a sighting of the squid and therefore carried armfuls of things he thought it might tempt it to the surface. Al was pretty sure James had been lying about the liquorice whips, but Beagán was going to give them a try.

As they marched down the grass, something bright in his peripheral vision made Al turn his head. Scorpius's hair shone like a beacon in the bright autumn sunlight. Al would have continued on his way, but something about the way Scorpius chewed his lip and clenched and unclenched his fingers made him halt. Scorpius was watching a small group of Slytherins - three boys and a girl - who were hunched over something on the grass.

"Oi, Potter," called Beagán. "Get a move on."

Al gestured towards them, keeping his eyes on Scorpius. "I'll catch you up."

He walked across the grass and crouched down next to Scorpius. "What are they doing?"

"They've got a Bowtruckle." The other boy didn't look at him. He hummed tonelessly and shifted on his feet.

The Slytherin girl had her hands clasped in front of her chest. "You're horrible, Jason. Look at its little face." There was a strange chirping sound.

Al stood and walked towards them. Scorpius followed, keeping a step behind. The smell hit Al before he even saw the magnifying glass. Wood, but not wood. Acrid smoke.

The tiny creature waved its stick arms and legs about, chirping frantically; a bright spot of concentrated sunlight burnt into its forehead.

Al sucked in a sharp breath, and then he was pushing one of the Slytherin boys aside and shoving his way into the circle. "Stop that!" He reached down and grabbed the wrist of the boy holding the Bowtruckle. The boy looked at him with dark eyes and sneered.

"Let it go!" said Al.

"Piss off. It's just a bug."

"Put it down."

"Or what?"

Al stared at the boy. His mouth opened and closed. "You're hurting it."

"So?"

"Let it go, Jason," said the girl. Jason ignored her.

Al glanced up at Scorpius, who was standing a yard away from the group. When their eyes met, Scorpius's eyelashes fluttered.

"Please," said Al to Jason.

Jason set the magnifying glass carefully down on the grass. He lifted his fist, still holding the squeaking Bowtruckle. Then, keeping his eyes locked on Al's, he used his other hand to grab the creature's top half and twist.

"No!"

"Jason!" The girl shrieked.

The Bowtruckle made a horrible sound as it snapped in half, and a sharp pain bloomed in Al's stomach.

"You should mind your own bloody business, Potter." Jason threw the broken bits at Al's face.

Al flinched away, his eyes burning. "You shouldn't have done that."

Jason leaned towards him. He spoke right in Al's face. "And what are you going to do about it?"

James would hit the boy. So that was what Al did. Only he wasn't good at hitting, so his fist glanced uselessly off a shoulder and then Jason was on him, punching, while Al thrashed and tried to cover his face with his arm.

It only lasted a second. There was a shout and Jason was gone, tumbling through the grass a yard away. Panting, Al pushed himself up and saw Scorpius standing with his wand extended, his face white, eyes wide.

The Slytherins scrambled away towards the castle.

"That was Harry Potter's son! Your father's going to murder you."

"You can't let Gryffindors push you around."

Al wasn't going to cry. Not in front of Scorpius. He pushed himself to his feet and sucked in a couple of deep breaths. He brushed dirt and grass off his arms and trousers. A hot throb on the right side of his face told him that he'd have a bruise, and he hadn't even managed to give the other boy one in return. James would be cross.

"You're going to have a black eye." Scorpius put his wand back in his pocket.

Al huffed. "Yeah. Thanks."

"You should go see Madam Pomfrey."

"I'll be fine."

Finally confident that he wouldn't start blubbering, Al looked up. Scorpius immediately looked away and then at his feet. His lips quivered. His hands clenched and unclenched.

"Got to go meet my friends," said Al, before stumbling away toward the lake.

"Flitterblooms," said Professor Longbottom, scooping a viney plant out of its pot and holding it up for the students to examine, "need repotting every two months." Curly green vines floated towards sun shining in through the greenhouse glass. One of them curled around the Professor's ear and refused to let go. Al laughed along with the other students and Longbottom grinned before peeling the strand away and gently depositing the Flitterbloom into a new and larger pot. "Now," he continued, "how do we know that this is actually a Flitterbloom, which is harmless, and not Devil's Snare, which can be deadly?"

"If it were Devil's Snare, it'd be around your neck," said Beagán.

"You make a good point. But there's another way to tell the difference. Without risking your neck." The professor winked.

Rose's arm made a point in the air and she bounced on her feet, her hair rising and falling. Longbottom cocked his head to the side and gave her the affectionate smile he always gave her when she behaved that way.

"Rose?"

"Devil's Snare is repelled by fire."

"Very good, that's right. And Flitterblooms actually seek out warmth and light. Now, pair up. After you've repotted your plants, put them over there on the shelf by the window. That way they'll get the sun and grow faster."

Al looked to his right. He almost always paired with Kristoph, while Beagán paired with Stephanie. However, after a moment's hesitation he took the plant Scorpius offered, and set to work, digging his trowel into the bag of soil and scooping it into the waiting empty pot.

"Flitterblooms grow in moss and darkness," said Scorpius, his face partially obscured by the plant's waving vines. "That's why they developed their tentacles. So they could pull their way up towards the sun."

Al carried the pot to the shelf and set it down. It hadn't been heavy, yet his heart was racing. He stared down at the Flitterbloom tentacles as they swayed towards the window, curling and stretching in the sunlight. Something kept him from returning to his table. The back of his neck prickled, and he held on to the pot, his fingertips pushing down into the cool dirt.

When he finally turned around and looked towards his work partner, he saw that Scorpius was staring right back at him.


	3. Year 3

Year 3

"The most effective weapon against vampires is sunlight. Vampire physiology contains a high percentage of the element magnesium, which is highly flammable, making them particularly vulnerable to spontaneous combustion under certain, specific illuminative conditions. For example, a situation in which the air pressure is greater than forty-two degrees Celsius with ultraviolet wavelengths between three and four hundred nanometres, visible wavelengths between four and seven hundred nanometres, near infrared wav-"

"Scorpius," Al hissed, tugging at Scorpius's robes. "Sit down. He's getting cross."

Scorpius's eyes flickered down towards Al, a flush creeping over his cheeks.

Professor Smith pursed his lips, his eyes glinting in a way that made Al's stomach hurt. He tapped his wand against his open palm. "Thank you, Mr Malfoy, but you answered my question with your first sentence."

Why did Scorpius do it? Al didn't know, but once he got started it was almost impossible to stop him.

"One can use artificial sunlight to destroy a vampire, but achieving the correct light frequency using a _Lumos_ charm is close to impossible. It's preferable to lure the vampire into natural sunlight. One could, for example, use a human being as bait, hoping to deceive…"

Smith's upper lip began to curl.

"Scorpius, hush!" Al hadn't meant to speak quite that loudly.

But it worked. Scorpius blinked and then dropped abruptly back down onto his chair. "Sorry, sorry."

Al couldn't respond. He was too gripped by Smith's glare, which was directed at him alone. At least he'd taken the heat off Scorpius. He swallowed.

"This isn't your classroom, Mr Potter. Don't try and discipline my students."

"Sorry, sir." His hands curled into fists beneath the table.

"Twenty points from Gryffindor." The rest of Al's housemates groaned. "And, since you're so eager to play the part of professor today, come up here to the front of the class."

Heart pounding, Al slid out of his seat. He slowly walked to the front of the classroom and stood still, waiting, his cheeks hot. Smith eyed him up and down, the corner of his mouth turned up; Al looked away from him.

When Smith swung his wand up and pointed it at Al, Al sucked in a breath. The Stinging Hex hit him right between the eyes. The class gasped. He staggered backward from the shock of it, his hand flying automatically to his pocket.

"Ah, you're going for your wand, are you? Good, good. We'll see how up to speed you are on your Shield Charms. I'm sure your father would have taught you the basics."

He knew it started with a 'P'. Pro… Protecteus? Al drew his wand. His father's hand wouldn't have shook so hard.

"Ready, Potter?" Smith raised his wand again. Al tensed.

"_Prot_-" But he wasn't fast enough. This hex hit him on the shoulder. It burned like a bee sting. A patch of sweat bloomed on the back of his neck. He could hear his classmates shifting in their seats. Not one of them said a word.

The third hex seared across his left cheek, and Al cried out.

"Sir-" Al recognised Beagán's voice.

"Quiet, Finnigan. Or it will be more points from Gryffindor."

Breathing hard, Al peeked at the professor through his fringe. Smith wore a thin smile and his eyes crinkled at the corners. His wand flashed again.

At last the counter spell flew through Al's mind and out his mouth. "_Protego_!"

Smith's hex, an electric spark of light, smacked against Al's shield, paused and then moved through it with a _pop_, hitting Al in the chest. He stumbled backwards and fell to the floor.

It wasn't the pain. It was Smith's smirking face above him, it was the entire class watching, it was Al's inability to do anything to stop it despite the fury tightening his throat. He squeezed his eyes closed, but hot tears began to leak down his cheeks. Everyone could see them. It would be only hours, minutes before James and Lily found out.

Smith clapped his hands together. "Well then. If Potter here is anything to go by, it looks like you need to work on your Shield Charms. Ten inches on hex deflection by Friday."

Al stayed on the floor, knees bent, face buried in his arms, as the rest of the students left the classroom.

"Don't take after your father much, do you?" Smith had such a nasal voice. It went right through Al's head.

He swore silently, then forced himself to stand. He didn't look at the professor or speak to him, but walked quickly to his desk, grabbed his book bag and exited the room.

Scorpius was waiting for him in the corridor. He didn't look at Al, but fell into step beside him. Al glanced at him, but Scorpius kept his eyes lowered. Al took a deep, shuddering breath.

A moment later, a high, rhythmic, metallic whine filled the corridor.

Al stopped short. "Do you have to?"

Scorpius's fingers went still. He took the two silver spheres he'd been rolling together in his hand, and shoved them into his rucksack. "They make me feel calm."

"I know, but just now they're making me feel homicidal."

It was useless to try and catch Scorpius's eye. He turned his head away, his corn silk hair hanging in his face.

"It's all right, Scorpius." Al kicked at the floor. "I'm fine." Al was going to be late for Transfiguration. He ran his eyes over the line of Scorpius's bent neck and down his thin shoulders. "Come on. We've got to go."

"I'm sorry," Scorpius finally whispered.

"It wasn't your fault."

"It was. And I just let it go on. I didn't know how to make him stop."

Al reached out, his hand trembling over Scorpius's upper arm before taking hold. "Look at me."

Scorpius peeked over at Al. Their eyes met, then Scorpius looked away again.

"I'm all right," said Al. "It's all right."

"I've got to get to Arithmancy."

"I'll see you in the library later." He squeezed and got a tiny smile in response.

After dinner, they claimed their usual table towards the back of the library, close to the Restricted Section. This was good, because it was less likely that Madame Pince would overhear Scorpius's loud, and in Al's opinion overly dramatic, sighs. Al scowled when his friend began to explain, for the third time, the thought process necessary to successfully Transfigure a hedgehog into a hairbrush.

"It's not that you're a complete idiot," said Scorpius . "You just don't concentrate properly. Or your brain is too slow. Maybe a bit of b-"

"Yes, I get it. Thanks very much." Al bit his lip and stared down at the hedgehog. "But what if it doesn't want to be a hairbrush? Does being Transfigured hurt the hedgehog? Where does its brain go?"

"That's not the point," Scorpius hissed and then crossed his arms.

"I can't help it. It just seems cruel."

"Al, if you don't figure this out, you won't pass your practical. Here." He raised his wand and glared down at the hedgehog, which looked back up at him with big, round eyes. Its nose twitched. Scorpius's arm dropped. "Marauding mandrakes, Al. Now I can't do it either."

It should have been funny, but it wasn't. Al was barely squeaking by in Transfiguration. He couldn't remember anything they'd learned in History of Magic that had happened before 1872, and his Cheering Charm had made his house and year-mate Stephanie Hunter erupt in fat, purple spots and run sobbing from the room. He was getting solid E's in Potions and Herbology, but his Charms and DADA marks left a gnawing sensation in the pit of his stomach.

Two hours later, the hedgehog's spines looked a bit thinner and its nose was, perhaps, slightly elongated. It sat hunched on the table, glaring at Al with an expression he read as _And what did I ever do to you_?

Scorpius yawned and stretched, pale arms thrown over his head, his body a plucked bowstring curved with tension. Al peeked at him, a familiar warmth humming in his chest.

"Need the toilet," said Scorpius.

Al followed along so he could walk with Scorpius towards their dorms when he was finished.

If Scorpius had made it his mission to keep Al from failing out of Hogwarts, then Al's chosen undertaking was to teach Scorpius how to be somewhat less of a giant weirdo. They were both only semi-successful.

Al eyed Scorpius warily once they were in the toilets. The fifth-year Slytherin on whom Scorpius had chosen to practise his conversational skills glared down at the urinal. His jaw twitched in a way that made Al wonder what hex he was considering, and yet Scorpius prattled on.

"Father says that Wasps will come out on top, but the Falcons just signed Arnolt Standish, and he's caught the Snitch in every match he's played. June 2016 being the obvious exception, of course, but it's common knowledge that Siegfried used a Undetectable Confundus Charm, even if the DMGS couldn't prove it. I venture that Standish will show himself-"

"For the love of Merlin, Scorpius," said Al out of the corner of his mouth. "Let him piss."

Scorpius snapped his mouth shut, his cheeks colouring. He whispered to Al. "But you said Quidditch instead of Arithmancy. That Quidditch was always safe."

"Just… It's best not to talk at all in the toilets."

"Well, I don't see why."

Al sighed and rolled his eyes.

Their feet dragged as they made their way up towards the spot where they would have to part. Since he knew Scorpius was tired, Al didn't complain about the hum of the orbs Scorpius played with as they walked. It was a bit soothing, actually. Their shoulders brushed together and the remnants of the Al's earlier humiliation shivered away. He smiled.

His shoulders tensed, however, when a cacophony of footsteps erupted on the staircase behind them.

"Could you knock off that god-awful racket, Malfoy? Some of us have ears." The boys James was with - one ginger, the other tall, both wearing Gryffindor ties - laughed, as if James had been funny. "Why do you carry those things around with you all the time, anyway?"

Scorpius's face went blank. "They're Baoding Spheres. Father brought them back from China for me. They strengthen and improve the dexterity of your fingers."

"Training yourself up for the great Ravenclaw Wanking World Cup, ay?"

Al scowled. "Piss off, J-"

"Of course not," Scorpius interrupted him. "There is no Ravenclaw Wanking World Cup."

"That's not what I heard. I heard there is one and you're the current champion."

"That's a dirty lie!" Red circles bloomed on Scorpius's cheeks.

"Scorpius." Al tugged at his sleeve. "He's just trying to wind-"

"They're made of polished iron and originated in the Heibei province of ancient China sometime during the Ming dynasty." Scorpius shouted. "They improve circulation and smooth the passage of magic through the body."

James laughed, eyes wide, and reached towards the balls. "Give us see." Scorpius jerked his arm away. "Oh, come on, Malfoy. Give me a go."

"Go on, Malfoy." The ginger boy grinned and took a step towards them.

A group of Ravenclaws moved past. "Trying to snatch Malfoy's balls?" one of them called. "Oh, he doesn't like that."

His pulse racing, Al tried to move between Scorpius and James. James's tall friend stepped around him, however, and made to push at Scorpius. In trying to move away, Scorpius lost his footing. Al grabbed his arm to keep him from tumbling down the stairs. "Leave him alone," he bellowed, and for a moment James's eyes flashed and Al wondered if he'd hit him.

The air pulsed around them. Then James closed his eyes, opened them again, and laughed, moving back to lean against the banister. "I'll catch you up," he said to his friends. They shrugged and then disappeared up the staircase.

"Father gave them to me." Scorpius's shoulders were raised, his chin lowered.

"Go on." Al patted him on the back. "Go on and I'll see you at breakfast."

"Potters think they own the world." It was little more than a whisper.

James scowled, straightening up.

Al groaned and gave Scorpius a gentle shove. With a huff, Scorpius finally moved away up the staircase, leaving Al and James alone together.

Al crossed his arms. They looked at each other.

James's face wavered. He pursed his lips, then looked completely away, his hands in fists at his sides. "What are you doing, hanging around with that los…" He darted a look at Al, "Ravenclaw weirdo?"

"He's my _friend_."

"I know. Everybody knows." James sighed and shrugged. "Look, we'd better get to the common room and pry Lily off the chandelier before she breaks something and loses us more points."

While Al noticed the 'more', he didn't comment on it. They began to ascend the staircase, side by side. He hoped that Scorpius was safely back in Ravenclaw Tower and that he wasn't trying to lecture anyone about the uses of Arithmancy in the construction of magical mirrors.

When they reached the landing, James paused. He shoved his hands in his pockets and didn't look at Al when he spoke. "If Smith gives you a hard time again, I think we should tell Dad."

"No." Al shook his head. "It wasn't a big deal. Never tell Dad. Swear."

James turned his head and met Al's eyes, his mouth a thin line. "You can handle him?"

"I can handle him."

"Right then," said James. He moved off towards the Portrait Hole. "Then I won't say anything. I swear."

Al swallowed and went after him.

Being in the same room as both Dad and Mr Malfoy was never an enjoyable experience, even a room as cavernous as the Atrium of the Ministry of Magic. If Al had been younger, he might have wanted to hide behind his father's robes.

As per usual, Scorpius seemed oblivious to the social tension. The second he'd spotted Al, he'd grabbed his father's hand and begun dragging him along behind him, heading straight towards the Potters. Mr Malfoy looked to see where he was being taken, and his eyes widened. By the time he was close enough for Dad to notice his presence, however, Mr Malfoy's face had gone cool and blank.

"Malfoy," said Dad, looking from Mr Malfoy down to Scorpius and back again, eyebrows raised.

"Potter," Mr Malfoy drawled and placed his hand on Scorpius's shoulder. "I'm visiting Shacklebolt to discuss that nastiness in the Berkshires the other week."

"Ah. Right." Dad's face relaxed and he met Mr Malfoy's eyes. "And attending the ICW meeting this afternoon?"

"Of course."

"You've spoken with Schröder?"

Mr Malfoy's eyes narrowed. "Of course I've spoken with Schröder. I've spoken with Schröder, Abrahamsen and White, and I'm scheduled to meet with Takahashi this afternoon. I can assure you, Potter, that-"

Dad scowled. "I wasn't implying that you were slacking off, Malfoy, I was just-"

"Father?" Both men snapped their heads to look at Scorpius, clearly relieved to be distracted from their conversation. "I would like to invite Albus over for Solstice."

Al's heart leapt, and then immediately sank again.

"What?" Dad looked baffled.

"Please, Dad." Al looked up at his father. It was a long shot. But maybe…

"You want to spend Solstice with…" he glanced at Mr Malfoy and then looked back down at Al, his brow creased, "them?"

"It would just be one day and one night, Mr Potter," said Scorpius.

"I wish you had discussed this with me privately first, Scorpius," said Mr Malfoy.

"But you'd have said No."

Dad ran his fingers through his hair. "I hadn't even realised you were friends." There was a note of hurt in his voice.

"We are, dad. Good friends. I'm sorry I didn't say anything. Really, really sorry."

Dad looked at him for several long moments. Then he said, "Right." He pushed his shoulders back. Mr Malfoy stood even straighter and lifted his chin. "Who's going to be there? None of your-"

"Mother is in Paris," Mr Malfoy interrupted, "and you know where my father is. It will be me, Astoria, Scorpius and several house-elves, most of whose impulses towards evil and corruption of the young we strongly discourage."

His dad's eyes flicked away and the corner of his mouth went up. He sighed. "Right. I'll have to check with Al's mum, of course."

"Of course. And I with Astoria."

"And we'll need him back early on the twenty-third."

"Very well."

Breaking into an uncontrollable grin, Al glanced at Scorpius. Scorpius beamed right back at him.

Fortunately, the next five days were full of aunts, uncles and cousins, so Al didn't have time to die of anticipation. He did count the days, though, full as they were. And when the twenty-second of December arrived, he hugged his mum goodbye and virtually leapt through the Floo into the entrance hall at Malfoy Manor.

It was a different sort of Scorpius who descended the grand staircase that morning. This Scorpius had his hair neatly slicked back and fastened into a short ponytail at the nape of his neck. He wore pressed, dark-blue robes trimmed with gold thread. He even moved differently, his back straight, his shoulders relaxed. When he spotted Al, however, his face lit up just like it always did.

Al had to wait a moment for the sense of dislocation to pass. He ran his hands over the front of his button-down shirt, hoping it wasn't wrinkled or soot-stained from his journey. This was Scorpius. His Scorpius. He was just tidied up a bit. Al met Scorpius's smile with a grin.

Scorpius led Al into the drawing room where his father was waiting to greet him. Mr Malfoy stood in the shadows at the far side of the room. As Al and Scorpius entered, he moved towards them. Al quickly rubbed his damp palms against his trousers.

Mr Malfoy smiled upon seeing Al, but shook his head ever so slightly, his brow creased. "Well then, Mr Potter. Welcome to Malfoy Manor."

He reached out his hand. Al took it and shook Mr Malfoy's warm, dry fingers.

"Thank you, sir. And you can call me Al. Everyone does."

"We can feed the peacocks," said Scorpius in a tone of voice that told Al it was going to be a bit of time before he stopped speaking again. "There aren't any chicks at the moment, but the adults are very friendly. I've named them all. We'll see if you can guess which one's called McGonagall. And I've got a marvellous wizard chess set with pieces that talk to you and tell you off if you're about to make a foolish move. Father brought it back from Greece and the white pieces were carved from Manticore bones and it's the only one of its kind in the whole world. And you can borrow a broom. We've plenty of spares. And we'll go faerie hunting so we can catch some for our tree. And tonight is the feast, and-"

Mr Malfoy put a hand on Scorpius's shoulder and squeezed. "Perhaps Al would like some refreshment after his journey, Scorpius?"

"Oh." Scorpius's hand flew to his mouth. "I've completely forgotten my manners again, haven't I?"

"A bit," said his father, one corner of his mouth turned up.

"I'm terribly sorry, Al." Scorpius gestured towards a delicate looking couch with curved armrests and wooden legs. "Do have a seat."

Al hoped that once they were alone together Scorpius would forget his manners again, but he did as suggested. Scorpius sat down beside him, bouncing his knees until a look from his father made him stop.

Kreacher had died when Al was quite small, so he had only shadowy memories of a grizzled being standing over his cot and croaking lullabies. Thus, when a squeaky voice asked him if Albus Potter would like tea or Butterbeer and Al turned to look, he nearly jumped out of his seat. The house-elf had eyes as big as his fists and a nose like a strawberry.

"It's just Diddle," whispered Scorpius.

"Er, Butterbeer please."

As Diddle scuttled out of the room, a tall, thin woman with thick, grey-streaked hair hanging in waves down her shoulders walked into the room. She acknowledged no one, staring into the thick book she held, but only said, "Come, come," gesturing with her right hand.

"Take a look at this." She lowered herself to her knees, placed the book down, and then unrolled a long sheet of parchment. Scorpius, clearly knowing it was he who had been summoned, joined her on the floor. They spread out the parchment. The woman pulled out a quill and began scribbling.

"Would you perhaps like a desk or table to go with that, dear?" Asked Mr Malfoy. "Seeing as we have a guest."

"Hush," responded the woman, flapping her hand at him.

Al watched as Scorpius leaned across the parchment and pointed at the marks the woman had made. They bent towards each other, heads almost touching.

"My beloved spouse," said Mr Malfoy, gazing at the couple. He tilted his head to the side with a small smile. "No manners at all, but one can only do so much when training one's wife."

"Training one's husband, however," she responded without turning away from the parchment, "is remarkably straightforward."

"No, no," said Scorpius. "Your assumption is wrong. Kestrel's radiation has a blackbody spectrum with a temperature _T_ given by…" He snatched the quill away from her and began writing. "_k_ is Hammerbend's constant and-"

"Darling," she interrupted. "You aren't factoring in the temperature of the particle types …"

Al fidgeted in his chair, wanting Scorpius back. "What are they talking about?"

"Merlin knows," said Mr Malfoy. "Black holes. Arithmancy. I just let them get on with it." He turned away from his family and looked directly at Al. One eyebrow went up and he shook his head slightly. "You look very much like your father. Ah, well. Astoria - Mrs. Malfoy - is a professional Arithmancer. One of these days she and Scorpius will abridge all the universe's mysteries into a single mathematical equation and then I'll be entirely obsolete." He stood.

"I'll still need arm candy, my dearest," said Mrs. Malfoy.

"Thank goodness for small favours, beloved." He turned toward the door and looked back towards Al. "Come and have a chat in my study, Albus? They'll be a while."

Despite the terrifying idea of being alone with Mr Malfoy, Al followed.

The study was high-ceilinged and lined with bookshelves. A large fireplace held court in one wall, while a portrait of a tall, regal-looking man with long, blond hair and a striking resemblance to both Mr Malfoy and Scorpius rested on the wall opposite above an ornately-carved wooded desk. The moment Al entered the room, the portrait's eyes were on him.

"Scorpius's grandfather," said Mr Malfoy, nodding his head in the direction of the portrait when he saw Al looking at it. "My father. He is in Azkaban."

Al, of course, knew this. Unsure what sort of response was required, he said simply, "Yes." As Al watched, Lucius Malfoy's lip curled upward and his eyes narrowed.

"Yes," echoed Mr Malfoy, sitting down in one of the armchairs facing the fire." And yet, I understand that you and Scorpius are friends." He gestured toward the chair next to him. Al tore his gaze away from the portrait and moved quickly to occupy it. "He speaks very highly of you."

Diddle arrived, carrying a silver tray. Al took the glass of Butterbeer, but before he could say thank you, he'd run off again. He took a sip. Mr Malfoy was watching him intently.

"I really like Scorpius. He's brilliant." He wished his cheeks weren't so hot.

"And how does your father feel about your friendship with my son?"

There were going to be right and wrong things to say in this conversation. Al decided to go for flat out honesty. He tried not to squirm. "I know you and my dad didn't get on when you were at school."

Mr Malfoy snorted softly.

"But Dad says that I'm allowed to pick my own friends."

"Yes. He would, wouldn't he?"

"Are…" began Al, and then licked his lips. "Is it okay with you that-"

"I think that you can be nothing but a good influence on Scorpius." Mr Malfoy pressed his hands together and touched them to his lips. "As long as you treat him well. I like him to have what he wants."

Al wasn't sure why, but the last bit sent a shiver through his stomach and chest. "He helps me with my schoolwork sometimes."

Mr Malfoy lowered his hands and leaned back in his chair, still looking hard at Al.

"I'm not as clever as he is. Obviously. I mean, he's _so_ clever." He knew he was babbling. He took a gulp of his Butterbeer.

Mr Malfoy took a sip of his own drink. "He tells me you keep the other boys from bothering him."

Al's face burned like he'd stuck it in the fire. He shrugged. "He gets a hard time now and then."

"He's clever, but not savvy." There was a pause. "You don't wear spectacles."

Al blinked. "No."

"Probably for the best." He downed the rest of his drink and set the empty glass down on a side table. With a soft pop, it disappeared. After leaning slightly forward, Mr Malfoy took a breath. "I'm grateful, Albus, that Scorpius has you at his side."

His eyes were ringed by faint shadows, and differed from Scorpius's only in the sharpness of their focus and the lines between and around them. Al felt a twinge of what he felt when looking at his own father - a desire to smooth the lines away. But the words he needed to do it didn't come. He only looked back and finally managed a smile, hoping Mr Malfoy could read a promise in it. Mr Malfoy's quick, small nod indicated that he did.

Al turned to his Butterbeer. It tasted citrusy and slightly more tart than what he was used to.

A moment later Scorpius burst through the door and pulled Al away to meet the peacocks.

Malfoy Manor was a revelation. The grounds spread out for miles around. As the sky began to darken, Al and Scorpius crept around the yellow gorse bushes outside the Summer House. Scorpius carried a silver, bell-shaped cage by its handle, while Al held a net strung with silk. They crouched in the growing shadows, watching and waiting for the fairies to approach the saucer of nectar they'd laid out as bait.

Eventually a figure no taller than Al's pinky fluttered down from behind a yellow blossom and alit at the edge of the dish. Al watched with wide eyes as she bent down, unfurling a long, pink butterfly tongue, and began to drink. Her skin was bright blue with a ridge of pink knobs starting at the top of her bald head and running down her spine. When her translucent wings quivered, they showered the night with an effervescence of sparkling light.

"Merlin."

Al felt the pressure of Scorpius's hand on his forearm. "Wait. More will come."

Sure enough, more bright and colourful sprites began to float towards the dish of nectar, some blue like the first, others green with long antennae or dark red with wings that looked more bat than butterfly. The air around the saucer of nectar glittered gold and silver.

Completely entranced, it took Al by surprise to realise that Scorpius was watching him and not the fairies. He looked to the side; their faces were so close together. Scorpius smiled. Al smiled back. His pulse sped up in expectation.

"You won't have to chase them. They like showing off on our trees. But they'll make a game of it, so play along."

Ignoring the troubling flicker of disappointment, Al got to his feet and ran at the fairies. With a din of shrieks that went right through his head, they exploded into a shimmering cloud of colour. Several somersaulted right into the net, while others flew at his face, shouting at him in a language that sounded like a cross between bird and cricket song. He laughed, swooping at them, catching some but seeing more dancing away through the air, only to arc right back down again.

The moon lit their way back to the Manor, a luminous pebble against the black of the night sky. Scorpius carried the fairy cage. It swung gently against his long legs. The cries of the fairies had taken on a rhythm. They were singing, something energetic and bawdy from the sound of it. Al kept his eyes on Scorpius, tripping over unseen knobs of grass. His muscles felt loose with fatigue and they still had the feast to come before it was time for bed. Nevertheless, he grinned, bouncing as much as walking, and began to hum in time to the fairies' song.

Falling asleep in the enormous bed in the Malfoys' guest room was trickier than Al had expected. The mattress was harder than he was used to and the linen softer. There was too much space. Finally, after hours of imagining he saw Doxies that were probably just shadows and hearing cries that were most likely just peacocks, Al's eyes began to droop.

The mattress dipped, and Al shot up, a shiver of surprise pushing him back to wakefulness. Scorpius crawled into bed and lay quietly, looking up at him. He wore only the bottoms of his pyjamas. His sleep-damp chest and arms shone like smooth cream in the moonlight. As Al slid down to lay beside him, he smelt Scorpius's perspiration and then sighed, not knowing what to do with himself. Scorpius just kept looking at him with his dove feather eyes.

Swallowing a fierce knot of longing, Al turned away. He made sure that his back brushed against Scorpius, who moved closer. His arm slid over Al's chest.

Al didn't sleep. He felt Scorpius warm against him, tried to match his breathing to the rise and fall of Scorpius's chest, and prayed that Scorpius's hand wouldn't move to the wrong place.

He hadn't counted on this. It didn't fit into any of his plans. He'd outgrow it. It would go away.

Only he thought that if it did, he might die.

Apparation was disgusting. Al felt green and he was sure he looked green. He always preferred to travel by Floo. However, when Mr Malfoy announced that he would Side-Along-Apparate Al and Scorpius to return Al to his family, Al was too shy to object.

He found a sturdy looking wall to collapse against, and concentrated on appreciating the fact that Mr Malfoy was studiously not looking at him with either concern or pity.

"Take this, you noodle," whispered Scorpius, and slipped something small and hard into Al's hand. He uncurled his fingers. A peppermint humbug. Al popped it into his mouth and felt instantly better. Why hadn't anyone ever told him before?

Dad and James were waiting outside Quality Quidditch Supplies. James had been gazing at the latest Firebolt with lovesick adoration, but when Al and the Malfoys approached, he tore his eyes away from the broom and scowled. Al decided to ignore him.

His dad stood still and tall. When he spotted Al, he grinned and his shoulders relaxed. Al felt an impulse to run to him, but he didn't. Instead he moved close, smiling up at his dad and allowed him to ruffle his hair.

He heard Scorpius and Mr Malfoy catch up behind him.

"I think you'll find he's all in one piece, Potter," drawled Mr Malfoy. "We had to re-attach his left foot using Spellotape after the incident with the Acromantula, but it should be almost as good as new in a week or two."

"You," said Dad, looking at Mr Malfoy, "are not funny." Only he smiled as he said it, so Al didn't worry. Dad turned to Al. "You had a good time?"

"Merlin, yes. It was brilliant! We went flying. Scorpius has the latest Firebolt." He couldn't help but flick his eyes to check James's reaction - an even bigger scowl. "And at night there was a feast, except the house elves had the night off, so it was a bit mad."

"It's called '_Dies Natalis Invicti Solis_', the Birthday of the Unconquered Sun." Scorpius held on to his father's hand, but he looked Dad in the face instead of speaking to the ground. "The darkest day of the year, but also the day the sun starts to grow bright again."

"The elves went mental," Al continued, ignoring James's glare. "Got totally pissed on Butterbeer and danced on the tables. We found two of them snogging in the laundry bin. And we went hunting for fairies-"

"Caught one, I see," said James, gesturing towards Scorpius with his head. His hands were shoved deep in his pockets, his shoulders hunched.

Scorpius didn't seem to notice, but Mr Malfoy's face changed in a way that made Al's dad hiss, "James!" and take a step between them. Al's skin went cold. He thought of the gentle pressure of Scorpius's arm around his chest, his knees spooning into the back of Al's legs.

"He's just a kid," said Dad, giving Mr Malfoy a very direct look.

"He needs a mouthful of hot coals." Mr Malfoy remained focussed on James.

Al could tell by the way James's eyes widened that he was frightened, but he also knew that wouldn't shut him up. "_He_," he jerked his head towards Scorpius again, "needs a good kick up the backside, and I'm just the one to give it to him."

"You _dare_!" Mr Malfoy's cheeks were red. His lip curled to show his teeth. Scorpius stared up at him with his mouth open.

Dad moved directly between James and Mr Malfoy. He put one hand firmly on Mr Malfoy's shoulder, but angled his head towards James. "One more word and you won't see that broom until you can afford it yourself."

"Take your hand off me, Potter."

"Stop looking at my _fourteen year old_ son like you're going to curse him."

Al couldn't stop shivering. He looked for Scorpius, and saw that he'd turned away from the group, his shoulders hunched, his head hanging down. The fingers of his left hand flexed open and closed, and Al realised that he hadn't seen Scorpius use his Baoding Spheres once the entire time he'd been at the Manor. He took a step towards him.

"Let him try and curse me," shouted James.

"_Enough_!," bellowed Al's dad.

There was a deafening whistle. Dad's eyes went wide.

"Get down," he shouted, and then "_Protego_!" He grabbed both James and Al by the backs of their necks and pushed them to the ground. Al had time to gasp. Then the world imploded.

Scorpius sat curled up in his father's lap, his long legs splayed on the pavement. His arms gripped his father's shoulders, his face buried against his chest. Mr Malfoy held him tight, combing his fingers through Scorpius's hair over and over. His eyes were closed and Al could see his lips moving quickly as he spoke.

Al couldn't hear the words. His own ears still rang from the blast of the explosion and the Malfoys were several yards away. He caught snatches of his dad's conversation with Burne, though.

"Hamburg. It's too similar."

"…stepping things up…"

"…extremely lucky this time. Dozens could have been killed."

He buried his face against his knees. The curse seemed to have jarred this thought process loose. He couldn't think, could only sit on the curb and shiver.

No one had been hurt.

Not Dad. Not James. Not Mr Malfoy.

Not Scorpius.

Not Scorpius.

Although someone had done this intentionally; someone had _wanted_ to hurt them, thought their lives were worth taking. That they had the right.

No matter how hard he tried, Al couldn't get his mind around it.

An arm snaked over his shoulders, making him jump. James. For the first few seconds, Al stiffened and refused to respond. Then he took a wet, shuddering breath, leaned in, and let his brother hold him.


	4. Year 4

Year 4

_The Sun_

_- Potent source of magic_

_- Centre of the Solar System_

Al lifted the hand holding his quill to shield his eyes. It was strange, being out on the Astronomy tower during the day. The Hogwarts grounds spread into the distance, the sparkling grey of the lake and verdant green of the Quidditch pitch making it hard to concentrate on Professor Sinistra's lecture. He tore his eyes away from the view and continued scribbling on his parchment.

_- Earth - 150 million km from the Sun_

_- 8 minutes, 19 seconds for sunlight to reach Earth_

_Photosynthesis_

_- supports all life on Earth_

_- source of energy_

_- no sun = no magic_

"It'd be pretty damn cold, too," said Beagán. Stephanie laughed, and he grinned at her, tightening his grip around her shoulders. She leaned her head against him, relaxed. Al realised he had no idea when they'd become a couple.

_Dangers_

_- ultraviolet, silver chloride, "de-oxidizing"_

_- sunburn_

_- cell damage_

_- blindness_

To Al's left were a couple of bored looking Hufflepuff boys. "Who are you taking to Hogsmeade?" whispered the one with sandy blond hair, loud enough for Al to overhear.

"Dunno," responded his friend. "I was thinking of asking Rose Weasley."

The blond boy snorted. "No chance. Someone will have already got there."

_- drought, fire, solar winds, global warming, rising sea levels, famine_

Scorpius didn't like Professor Sinistra. He found her 'histrionic' and 'dull of mind'.

The lecture finished. With a yawn, Al stepped away from the rampart. He didn't join his housemates in their little group, but trailed behind them as he descended the staircase, lost in his own thoughts.

He reached the corridor and headed off towards the Great Hall, keeping an ear out for the sound of Scorpius's Baoding Balls. A tall Ravenclaw girl marched around the corner and nearly smacked right into him.

"Keep your head up, dimwit," she snapped, and then, "Oh. Sorry, Al."

He blinked. "S'okay, Rose." He was still surprised by how it sometimes took a second or two for him to recognise her now.

"Scorpius stayed to chat with Professor Vector." Always that scornful tone when she said his name. Al nodded without smiling.

One of the fifth year Gryffindors materialised at Rose's side. Her face tensed. "Carry your books, Rose?"

She marched off. "I think you'll find I'm perfectly capable of carrying my own books." The boy scurried along beside her. She gave him a nervous glance and lengthened her stride.

"It's not that I don't like Rose any more," said Lily, bouncing down the staircase amidst a group of third years and attaching herself to Al. "It's just that now there are always so many _boys_."

"What are you talking about?" Al continued towards the Great Hall. "Almost all your friends are boys. I'm a boy."

"You and Scorpius are different. They turn into idiots when they're around Rose. They go all… goofy and horrible. I'm embarrassed for them."

"Bevan Lewis has become positively _unbearable_," said Olivia, and then sighed loudly, her eyes heavenward.

Olivia was something that went along with the whole 'Lily being around a lot more now that Rose had become irritating' thing. She'd registered with Al previously as a loud, dark-blond blur often accompanying Lily's loud ginger blur.

"Bevan used to be fun!" Lily's eyes widened in outrage.

Olivia nodded emphatically. "And now he's all, 'Did Rose look at me? Do you think she likes me? Blah blah blah.' And he never wants to play Quidditch or Exploding Snap."

"I suppose she's pretty," said Lily, wrinkling her nose.

"She's really pretty," said Olivia, nodding.

"But, you know. She's just _Rose_."

"Rose Weasley thinks far more of herself than her academic performance warrants." With a sniff, Scorpius fell into step beside Al. The girls stared at him. "Well, it's true," he persisted, tossing his hair out of his eyes and reaching into his pocket.

Al tilted his head towards Scorpius. "Just stop once we get to the Hall, 'kay?"

"Fine," said Scorpius. The whine of his Baoding Spheres wove through the din of chattering students heading towards lunch.

"Do you think Rose is pretty?" Olivia looked at Al.

"She's my cousin."

More eye rolling. "I didn't ask if you _fancied_ her."

Lily grabbed Olivia's arm. "Come on."

"Who are you going to Hogsmeade with, Al?" Olivia persisted.

"_Olivia_," said Lily in a harsh whisper and dragged her friend away.

"See you later, Al. Later, Scorpius." The girls disappeared into the crowd.

As Al and Scorpius entered the Great Hall, Scorpius re-pocketed the spheres. Al pressed lightly against Scorpius with his shoulder; Scorpius pressed back. They smiled at each other, and then went off to their respective tables. Al turned toward Beagán, Kristoph and Stephanie, but James was beckoning him, so he slid into the empty seat to his brother's left.

"Here." James pushed his plate and the plates of most of the people around them away, causing a chorus of ignored protests, and spread a copy of the _Prophet_ across the table in front of them. Al read the headline and went cold and still inside.

'_Diagon Alley Bomber Arrested_'

Below the headline was a photo of a man in his mid 30's. He had dark hair and a pleasant face. He smiled at the camera, squinting slightly against the sun. He looked perfectly normal. He looked kind and sane. He'd come very close to murdering Al, James, Dad, and Draco and Scorpius Malfoy the previous year.

"They caught him," Al whispered.

"Dad. Dad caught him." James pressed his finger into the middle of the man's face and turned it until the paper bent and ripped from the pressure. Al pushed James's hand away, but it was too late. The man's face was ruined.

He scanned the article instead. The bomber was called Edmund Sythe. He was believed to be behind a series of bombings credited to an organisation called 'Brocken Spectre'. As he read the next paragraph the thing in Al's chest that had relaxed re-tightened and started to burn. '_While Sythe has been apprehended, the remaining members of Brocken Spectre are still at large and should be considered extremely dangerous. The public is urged to remain vigilant and report anything suspicious immediately to the Department for Magical Law Enforcement.'_

"But there are more of them." Al stared at the torn hole where Sythe's face had been.

"Dad will catch them too." James spoke loudly. Al glanced at him. His brother's mouth was a firm line.

"He will," Al agreed, and then repeated it to himself internally. His dad would catch them. He'd make the world safe and Al didn't need to worry.

It was only October, but the days were shortening quickly. By 4pm, the shine had already worn off the sky. Al finished watering the shrivelfigs and moved on to the Screechsnaps.

"Thank you, Al." Professor Longbottom dipped into a jar with a long-handled spoon and sprinkled dead flies over the Fanged Geraniums. The plants flailed about, their mouths snapping greedily. "Can you lock up for me? I've got a meeting with the Headmistress." He screwed the lid on the jar.

"Sure, Ne- Professor Longbottom."

Herbology was one of the few classes that didn't make Al want to tear his hair out in frustration. He quite liked it, actually. Caring for the plants, helping them grow, learning about their different properties and uses - it was simple. It made sense.

The professor patted him on the shoulder. "You can call me Neville when we're not in class." He gave Al a warm smile as he left. "Just don't let the other kids hear."

Al hummed to himself as he finished with the Schreechsnaps. He put the watering can away and squinted up through the glass ceiling, trying to gauge how much longer the sun would last. He thought he could still prune the Flitterblooms and make it back to the castle in time to go over Astronomy with Scorpius.

As he bent to open the cupboard, however, a cry came from outside. He hesitated. There was another cry - half anger, half pain and clearly coming from a girl. Brushing his hands together to clean off any dirt, he went outside to see what had happened.

Olivia sat on a rock, glaring at her scraped and bloody knee. She looked up as Al approached and momentarily broke into a grin before replacing it with a cooler expression, which Al couldn't decipher. Her hair hung tangled over her shoulders and her robes had been pulled up over her wounded leg. There was dirt across her nose and cheek.

"I could die," she said. "This is so embarrassing."

"What happened?" Al knelt down to examine the cut. It wasn't bad, just an abrasion.

"I don't even know! One minute I was running up the hill, and the next I was face down in the mud. I think I tripped over a root or something. And my knee hit a rock. It hurts like buggery." Her eyes widened; she slapped her hand over her mouth and giggled. "Sorry. My mum would give me a smack if she heard me use that word."

Al blew on the scrape to dislodge a stray blade of grass.

Olivia sucked in a breath. "That tickles. Do you think I should go see Madame Pomfrey?"

"Hold on." Al got to his feet and went back into the greenhouse. He quickly gathered cuttings of marigold, dittany and aloe, crushed the leaves into a pot and then squeezed the mixture with aloe juice. After wetting a clean cloth under the tap, he returned to Olivia and began gently cleaning her knee.

She watched him. He could hear her breathing. He looked up at her and saw that her cheeks were pink. "Are you ready? It might sting a little." She nodded. He dabbed some of the paste over the cut. Olivia squeaked, but she didn't move. After a moment, the scrape healed over. Al smiled and wiped away the remaining blood.

"Wow," said Olivia. "Thank you."

"S'all right." He bent a bit closer, dabbing at a spot that turned out to be a freckle, then raised his head. "Does it-"

Her lips were on his. He went very still. No one had ever done that to him before.

The brush of her lips felt good, like the breeze teasing the back of his neck. He gave in to curiosity. Her fingers curled through his hair. Then she pressed her tongue against his lips and he froze.

He pulled back. Olivia beamed at him, and an uncomfortable weight formed in Al's stomach. "So," said Olivia, "you'll go to Hogsmeade with me, yeah?"

The weight got heavier. Al wanted to go to Hogsmeade with Scorpius, like he always did. They'd go to Honeydukes to get Licorice Wands and then Scorpius would ruin all the jokes at Zonkos by explaining how they worked.

Did kissing a girl mean you had to go with her? Was it a rule?

"I… I've got to lock up the greenhouse." He stood up.

"I'll go with you." Olivia bounced to her feet. She was a perfectly nice girl. Maybe a bit loud. And she was pretty, Al supposed. The kiss had been nice.

But nice was all it had been. Brushing shoulders with Scorpius sent a gorgeous shiver through his entire body every single time it happened.

"S'okay. I might be a while." He shoved his hands into his pockets and kicked at a stone on the ground. "The Flitterblooms need pruning. Er, I'll see you later. All right?"

"Oh. Okay! I'll see you at dinner then."

Al smiled, but kept his eyes down.

"Bye, Al." She bounded off towards the castle.

Al remained where he stood. He felt as if his body had been filled with wet sand. The sun began to set in earnest and for several brief moments the sky over the lake turned marmalade and then faded to blood-orange.

He was sure now, sure that the things he'd been feeling for Scorpius meant what he'd thought they'd meant. This was both absolutely terrifying and an enormous relief.

As darkness consumed the sky's vibrant colours, Al turned and walked back to the greenhouse to lock up.

Scorpius was waiting for him in the Entrance Hall. He leaned against the banister of the marble staircase, flipping through a book at his usual ridiculous pace. Absently, he pushed a lock of hair behind his ear. Al stopped, took a breath, and looked at him. He looked at his quickly moving fingers, the curve of his jaw, and his pointy nose. He looked at his lips, and how they pursed and pouted ever so slightly as he read. A tingling flush ran the course of his body and his hands curled into fists.

He knew Scorpius cared. He knew he was _his_. He just didn't know if he wanted in the same way Al wanted.

He swallowed and collected himself.

Scorpius looked up from his book, spotted Al, and gave him a brilliant smile. "We've barely got any time to go over your Astronomy homework now."

"It's not so complicated this week. Just the sun." They moved off together, side by side, towards the library. Just to check, Al moved close enough for their arms to brush. Scorpius's fingers tangled with his and squeezed.

Once they were in the library, Scorpius did his best to explain to Al about the three primary forms of crepuscular rays. None of it sunk in.

Al knelt on the floor of the DADA classroom, swallowing and inhaling sharply through his nose, hoping it would chase away the burn in his eyes.

"Get up, Potter. You're embarrassing yourself." Professor Smith's voice sliced through his head.

Al got to his feet. He lifted his chin and tightened his grip on his wand. He focussed on Smith's thin lips. If he looked into his eyes, he knew he'd lose his little remaining composure.

"Ready?" Smith lifted his arm, wand pointed at Al.

Al gave a tiny nod, braced himself, and then shouted, "_Prote_-."

Smith's "_Impedimenta_!" instantly demolished Al's Shield Charm, sending Al flying backwards. He landed hard and for several long seconds was unable to pull any air into his lungs. Panic made him twist and kick. Once he was finally able to breathe, he lay on the floor, gasping, his eyes squeezed tightly shut.

He couldn't do it. He and Scorpius had practised Shield Charms for hours; Al had thought he'd finally cracked them. As soon as he was faced with Professor Smith and his smirk, however, all his resolve evaporated into nothing.

His dad had cast a charm big enough to save all five of them in Diagon Alley.

"Up. Up!" Al heard Smith clicking his fingers. "Enough snivelling on the floor, this isn't first year. You've got O.W.L.s to think about soon."

Al heaved himself back onto his feet and rubbed his right shoulder where it ached. The skin on his face felt hot and crisp. He looked at Smith. "Why are you doing this to me?"

Smith's eyebrows shot up. "This? This is teaching. Defence Against the Dark Arts, Potter. Don't have much of a knack for it, do you? And I've heard tell you want to be an Auror like your daddy."

The words hit him as hard as the hex had a moment earlier. Shut up, he screamed inside his head, his chest rising and falling, and despite his best efforts, his vision blurred.

"Bit of a joke at the moment, no? Here. I'll help. Let's try again." Smith raised his arm.

Al flinched and turned away.

Scorpius's voice rang out with a Disarming Charm from the back of the classroom. Professor Smith's wand flicked from his fingers and flew over his desk. It smacked against the wall, fell to the floor and rolled, slowly coming to a stop underneath a window.

A deep hush fell over the entire classroom.

For a moment Smith merely stood with his mouth hanging open. A flush crept across his cheeks. Then his eyes narrowed and he shouted, "Out. All of you. Now!" The students were quick to obey. The scraping of chairs and the shuffling of books and bags blotted out the shocked silence.

Al stayed where he was. His feet felt glued to the floor. He could see Scorpius in a similar state across the classroom. He shook himself and went to him. Scorpius gave him a shaky smile and tucked his wand back into his pocket.

When Scorpius started to put his things back into his school bag, however, Smith snapped, "Not you, Malfoy. You're not going anywhere."

Scorpius heaved a breath and dropped the quill he'd been holding. Al put a hand on his shoulder.

"Didn't you hear me, Potter? I said get out."

"What are you going to do to Scorpius?"

"That's none of your concern. Twenty points from Gryffindor for questioning me. Out!"

Al stared at Smith's flared nostrils and red face. He tightened his grip on Scorpius's shoulder and said, "No."

Once again, Smith's mouth fell open. Then his lip curled. "Fifty more points from Gryffindor. You'll be popular in the common room tonight."

"I'm not leaving you alone with him." His voice shook, but he looked directly at Smith as he said it.

Smith's eyes narrowed to slits. "You're not in charge here, Potter."

"I don't want to be." Al spoke quietly. "I just don't want you to hurt Scorpius."

Smith blinked. He opened his mouth, then closed it again. He turned his face away and seemed to stare out the window. Finally, he crossed his arms and glared at Scorpius. "Fifty points from Ravenclaw. Detention with Hagrid for a month. And if you ever use magic against a professor again, I'll see you expelled faster than you can say former Death Eater. Got it, Malfoy?"

Scorpius nodded.

"Right. Then get out. Both of you." Smith spun and stalked towards his desk. He kept his back to them while they gathered their things and fled.

Once out of the classroom, they walked quickly, neither of them speaking. Al glanced up and down the corridor and then halted. Scorpius took a few more steps before stopping and giving Al a questioning look.

"Just… Just hold still for a second," said Al.

Scorpius peered at him, looking a bit wary. Al swayed, his hands opening and closing. Then he leaned in and pressed his forehead against Scorpius's. Scorpius made a soft sound and said, "Oh."

They stood together, warmth spreading between their faces. Al wondered if he could push his thoughts into Scorpius's mind if he tried hard enough. Put them into his mind and let them be there without actually having to say anything aloud and possibly screwing it all up for good.

"You'll get it," said Scorpius, his breath tickling Al's nose. "We'll keep practising. You'll get it, and then he'll leave you alone."

Al didn't think it would be that simple. It would take more than a Shield Charm to make Smith stop hating him.

That evening in the Gryffindor common room he was pleasantly surprised to find that his housemates didn't hold the seventy points Smith had taken against him.

"Smith is a prick," said Beagán, plunking down next to Al on the sofa. "He's got it in for Gryffindors."

Stephanie sat next to Beagán. "It was time someone stood up to him. Good for Scorpius."

Someone ruffled Al's hair, and he looked up to see James grinning down at him. "Didn't think the skinny little twerp had it in him. And I would kill to have seen Smith's face."

"It was sort of like this." Beagán opened his eyes and mouth wide and shook his head from side to side. Stephanie exploded into giggles.

Al laughed along with her, and then focussed on his sister, who was marching towards him, her ponytail swinging behind her. Lily's lips were pursed. Al's smile faltered and then died.

Lily halted in front of him and glared. "What are you doing with Olivia?"

He blinked. "Nothing. I'm not doing anything with her."

She put her hands on her hips. "You must be doing something. Because she thinks you're dating. She thinks you _kissed_ her."

James hooted. "Yeah? He did? You kissed her, Al? Way to go!"

Al shrunk back into the sofa cushions.

"Did you kiss her? Because…" Lily huffed.

"She kissed me," he whispered.

"You shouldn't have let her."

"Lils…" Al glanced up at James, who shot him a grin and then turned to Lily.

"Back off, Lily. Al can kiss who he likes."

Lily sighed. "Just stay out of this."

"I'm not the one poking their nose in. It's about time Al had a girlfriend."

She made an angry cat noise and turned back to Al. "Sort her out." She waved her finger him. "She's a sweetheart. And it's not fair for you to-"

"_All right_." Al's knuckles went white where they gripped his knees.

James went quiet. Al could feel his stare like cold metal against his skin. "What's wrong with Olivia?" he finally said.

Groaning in frustration, Al leaned forward and buried his fingers in his hair. He stayed that way, vaguely listening to James and Lily's continued bickering. He didn't even know what 'sorting' Olivia 'out' meant. He suspected it involved some sort of horribly awkward conversation that would leave him feeling like a terrible person.

"Why are you so quiet?" Scorpius asked him in the library the next day.

Al shrugged. A part of him was tempted to tell Scorpius about the kiss, just to see how he'd react.

"I heard Dervish and Banges are carrying the new Hyperion Solar Telescope. We should go and give it a look tomorrow."

"Sure." A bigger part of him was too scared to find out.

"Hyperion is my middle name, you know. He was one of the twelve Titan gods of ancient Greece."

It had only been one quick kiss. But what if Olivia cried? Would that mean he had to go to Hogsmeade with her anyway?

Scorpius stared at him, his brows knit. "If you are going to insist on being boring, I'm going to get to work on my Arithmancy."

Al rubbed his eyes. Scorpius pulled out a quill and a roll of parchment and began scribbling, but kept surreptitiously glancing back at Al. The third time he did it, Al pulled a face - eyes bugged out and tongue extended. The corner of Scorpius's mouth turned up. "You should do your Charms homework."

Sighing, Al reached into his rucksack and pulled out his textbook.

When Saturday arrived, Al hung around in the common room, hoping to get the sorting out over with before he met Scorpius in the Entrance Hall. Eventually, Olivia and Lily came down the stairs. Al rested against the back of the sofa, his hands in the pockets of his trousers. Olivia's smiled when she spotted him, and walked over. Al could see Lily glaring behind her.

"Hi, Al!" Even this early in the morning she was full of energy.

"Um..." He examined the toes of his shoes. "About today."

"You mean going to Hogsmeade?"

"Yeah." He glanced up and looked at Lily and her raised eyebrows, before letting his head fall again. "It's just… I was planning to go with Scorpius, and he'll be disappointed. You're a lovely girl, but, er, I'm not really looking to date anyone at the moment, because I'll be taking O.W.L.s next year, and they're going to be really difficult, so I need to concentrate on my schoolwork. So, I'm sorry if I made you think-" He peered up at her and then stopped mid-sentence, surprised by what he saw.

Olivia stood with one hand on her hip and the other touching her lower lip. She was smiling. "S'all right, Al. I totally understand."

"You do?"

"Of course. You want to go with Scorpius. Lily pretty much told me that-"

"Olivia!" Lily, red faced, appeared at her side and jerked at her arm.

"Oh. Well. It's fine, Al. No worries. Maybe we can still all meet up. We're going to throw stones at the Shrieking Shack. There's supposed to be a really nasty ghost who lives there."

Al just nodded, the idea that Lily possibly _knew_ and now Olivia might know as well taking away his ability to speak.

Beagán and Stephanie entered the common room and made their way towards the portrait hole. Kristoph trailed behind them, looking slightly lost.

Olivia glanced at him and shrugged one shoulder. "Kristoph, do you want to go to Hogsmeade with me?"

Kristoph stopped in his tracks. "Yeah," he said, breaking into a huge grin. "That'd be wicked."

"All right, then." She took his hand and they left together. Lily watched them go, one eyebrow raised, and shook her head before following after. She paused just long enough to turn back to Al and give him a thumbs up.

Well. Head spinning, he pushed himself away from the back of the sofa and headed for the portrait hole. At least he was free to go and meet Scorpius.

He ran into James on the way down the marble staircase.

"So, you're going with just Scorpius again?"

"What do you care?"

"It's just a bit odd, that's all. When you could be going with a girl."

Al crossed his arms and said nothing. They reached the Entrance Hall and he spotted Scorpius waiting near one of the suits of armour. For a moment it looked as if James was going to follow them all the way to Hogsmeade. Then a tall, blond Slytherin sixth year girl strolled by and James stopped short, gazing at her with a similar expression to the one he'd worn when looking at the new Firebolt. Al took the opportunity to grab Scorpius and leave before his brother regained his senses.

It was a bright and chilly day. The Forbidden Forest shimmered in waves of copper and gold as they walked. Scorpius nattered on about the telescope he was going to buy. Al breathed in the fresh autumn air, which was tinged with smoke from Hagrid's bonfire and smelled of winter coming and Christmas. Al might even get to visit Malfoy Manor again.

They'd reached Hogsmeade and were heading for Dervish and Banges when Lily, Olivia, Kristoph and some other third years Al recognised but didn't know stampeded over to them.

"Come on, we're going for a drink," announced Lily. Her eyes were bright and determined in a way that instantly sapped Al of the will to argue.

"Yeah, okay."

Scorpius stopped dead. "But, Al… I need to go-"

"Oh no, you're coming too. You can't be Johnny-No-Mates forever." Olivia grabbed Scorpius's arm and pulled him towards the Three Broomsticks. Scorpius's eyes opened wide. He shot Al a desperate look.

Al bit his lip to keep from grinning. "We'll go to the shop right after, I promise. Just a quick drink. She's my sister."

He did feel a bit guilty when they were immediately assaulted by a wave of conversation, laughter and clinking glasses upon entering the pub. Scorpius's shoulders lifted and he hugged himself. Al put a hand on his arm and whispered to him. "We'll stay ten minutes to make Lily happy, and then we'll leave."

Scorpius nodded but didn't look at him. His eyes were already going glassy.

As they began to push their way through the crowd, Al was caught short by the sight of Smith's blond head and bony shoulders at a table near the back.

"Bollocks." He turned his face away from the Professor.

"You want to leave?" Scorpius gave him a hopeful look.

"Don't be ridiculous." Olivia squared her shoulders. "You can't let him scare you away."

"I'm not scared," said Albus through gritted teeth.

"Well, come on then." She marched towards a table on the opposite side of the pub.

They squeezed around a table that was really too small for the group. Olivia sent Kristoph to the bar to order a round of Butterbeer. Al pressed his knee against Scorpius's under the table to make sure he knew he was there. When Lily and Olivia entered into an animated conversation about Quidditch versus Shuntbumps, Al's eyes wandered towards Smith.

The professor sat alone at a small table close to the kitchen door. Every so often, he'd raise his finger and the barmaid would bring him another drink. He smiled as he spoke to her, which was a strange for Al to see, but her face remained impassive and actually darkened on one occasion before she slammed his firewhisky on the table and then moved quickly back to the bar. Smith stared after her, his mouth open. Then he turned to his drink, his shoulders lower than they had been before.

Neville, Professor Flitwick and Professor Divinorum, the Potions professor, wove through the crowded tables. They joined some of the other Hogwarts staff and sat down, laughing and ordering their drinks.

Smith stayed where he was, glancing at them now and then. He turned his glass in his fingers.

Al swallowed. He didn't know what to do with the uneasy feeling in his stomach.

"Do you really have to do that?"

Al looked back at the group gathered around his own table and saw that a short, dark-haired girl who'd come along with Lily and Olivia was glaring at Scorpius. Al was so used to the sounds of Scorpius's Baoding Spheres that he barely noticed them any more. Scorpius, hunched over, scowled down at the tabletop. The metallic hum was loud enough to cut through the noise of the pub, which Al guessed was the point, and he realised it was time for them to go.

Al lay splayed on the old, worn couch in the sitting room, his head lodged in a cushion and his legs dangling over the armrest. He popped one of Grandma Molly's cinnamon bon bons into his mouth and closed his eyes, enjoying the sugary burn of the melting sweet. It was great to be home. The lack of schoolwork was pure bliss. Al had nothing to do but lie around, be fed, and look forward to Christmas. And his parents had agreed to let him spend Winter Solstice with the Malfoys again.

He smiled and turned lazily to gaze at James and Lily as they burst into the room. They brought a pleasant chill and the metallic scent of the outdoors with them, which blended with the smell of the fire burning in the Floo.

"You totally cheated. You're just too embarrassed to admit you got creamed by your little sister." Lily plonked down in Dad's armchair, her cheeks rosy in the firelight.

"_If_ you had actually caught the Snitch, I'd admit to being beat, little sister or not. But you didn't." James picked up the poker and nudged a log in the fireplace, making it spit and spark. "You just failed and failed and failed."

"You just lie and lie and lie." She turned her head. "Pass me a bon bon, Al?"

Al yawned and stretched, then sat up. As he tossed the sweet to Lily, he saw his mum come down the stairs and turn into the kitchen.

"Tell me you cleaned up before you came indoors," she called. "Tell me I'm not going to come in there and see the carpet streaked with mud."

Al's siblings exchanged guilty looks and immediately began taking off their boots.

"When is Uncle Bill going to be here, Mum?" asked James.

"At two. I've told you."

"Oooh, Uncle Bill," said Lily, grinning at James. "You must be wetting yourself."

"Shut up. He's bringing an album full of photos from his trip to South America. His owl said that he fought mummies who cold burn your arm off with one glance, and he had to eat iguana meat. And he's got a ceremonial collar made of solid gold that used to belong to an Aztec emperor. If you put it on, it shows you your enemies' weaknesses."

Lily laid her head back against the arm rest and closed her eyes. "You are so in love with him."

"Shut up, Lil." James turned away from the fire to scowl at her. "He's my uncle. And I'm not a poof, stop being disgusting."

Al shifted on the couch and began tugging at a loose thread on his sock. He looked up again to see his mum standing in the doorway watching him, her brow creased. When she saw him notice her, she smiled and then winked. "Don't let your Uncle Charlie hear you say that," she said to James.

He sighed and crossed his arms. "I wasn't… Merlin!" He stormed out of the room and stomped his way up the stairs.

"Teenage hormones," said Lily, nodding her head.

Mum snorted a laugh. "Seems you'll have to clean up the mud on your own, then."

"Mum! That's not fair."

Mum shrugged and moved to sit down on the couch next to Al. She put her arm around his shoulders and stroked the back of his head. He leaned against her.

Dad hadn't been around much. He arrived home in the early evening, just after Uncle Bill left.

"I'm going to have to get back after dinner," he told Mum, after hanging his rain wet coat on the hook by the door.

"But you only just got here."

"I know." He cupped her face. "I'm sorry. It's… I wouldn't go if I didn't have to, Gin."

She slid into his arms and he hugged her then gave her a kiss. "Any progress?" she asked.

"A little. Sythe still won't talk. We've been at him with Veritaserum, but he just spouts slogans and rhetoric. Some of the things he believes..."

"I can imagine," said Mum.

Dad turned to Al and smiled, his eyes shadowed beneath. "I feel like I've barely seen you or James and Lily. You want to come into the office with me later?"

"Yeah," Al responded, although it was warm and comfortable at home. He hadn't been able to spend much time with his dad yet. "That would be good."

Their footsteps echoed through the nearly empty Atrium of the Ministry. James had decided to spend the evening locked in his room and Lily found going to Dad's office boring, so it was Just Al and his dad. A chill ran up the back of Al's neck. His father walked quickly and Al almost had to run to keep up with him.

Betty wasn't there, which was a bit of a relief, but many of the cubicles in the large room containing Auror Headquarters were occupied. It smelled of coffee and people who hadn't had time to go home and wash. Dad glanced down at Al. When they reached the door to his private office he stopped and ran his fingers through his hair. "Look. I've got to do a couple of things. I'll, uh, send someone in with tea and biscuits. You'll be okay on your own for a bit?"

Al nodded, swallowing his disappointment. His dad looked so tired.

After entering the office and closing the door behind him, he kicked at the carpet for a bit. He could have been at home listening to stories on the WWW and eating treacle tart. Hopefully Dad wouldn't be long.

He sat down on the chair behind the desk and spun round. He turned much slower than when he'd been small. He got to his feet, picked up the Book of Truth, and lied, just to see the book change from grey, to dusky pink, to bright violet. He examined the Harry Potter action figures, finally deciding that the ones manufactured by Ludicrum Amusements were rather a good likeness, while the Titus Toys versions made his dad look like a lumpy Kneazle.

When that got boring, he returned to the desk and watched the family photo for a bit. James made rude gestures at the camera while Mum swatted him. Al was no older than eight or nine. He stayed close to his dad, who had Lily perched on his knee. In the photo, Al's dad wore a brilliant smile. He lifted an arm and wrapped it around Al's shoulders. Then Al smiled too.

There were several files piled up on the desk. The one on top read 'Brocken Spectre'.

Dad hadn't said _not_ to look at them. It couldn't do any harm.

Al sat down again, picked up the file, and opened it.

At the beginning there was a series of photographs, some of Edmund Sythe, others featuring the additional members of Brocken Spectre. There were men and women, some old, some young. None of them looked particularly murderous, although a few wore rather angry expressions. He thumbed onwards, turning pages. He found lists of information - who the terrorists were, what crimes they were known to have committed.

On the next page was a copy of a hand-written document:

_Brocken Spectre Manifesto_

_The dearest wish of Brocken Spectre is to see the wizarding world as a calm community under the rule of law - a place where all wizards and witches, of both pure and impure blood, are treated with respect and dignity. We have never supported attacks on the innocent. Our fight has been against those who would oppress us, those who have taken away our rights and continue to erode a culture based on millenniums of history and tradition._

_Despite our repeated attempts at negotiation, the current government has denied us a voice on the Wizengamot and has characterised us as terrorists in the public eye. We concede that we are militant. We are at war. And yet the International Confederation of Wizards welcomes many other militarised organisations with open arms. We have as much right to our beliefs as any of those who question us. Why should we accept their rights to their views when they have turned us into refugees, unwelcome and hunted in our own community, merely for speaking out against the decimation of our culture? The 'inclusive' attitude taken by Shacklebolt's government has resulted in a wizarding world without focus or pride. We have become a community of mongrels._

_The current government's effort to negate our cause by taking our founder, Edmund Sythe, hostage, has not succeeded. Remove one of us and the rest will multiply. We are a revolutionary organisation. We want change, we want justice for all magical peoples, and most of all, we want peace. _

He wasn't sure what it meant, but it didn't sound like something written by people who set off bombs in Diagon Alley. He scratched his head and turned the page.

There was another series of photographs.

These were labelled with dates and places - Paris, Hamburg, Reading, London. At first Al couldn't tell what they were depicting; they just seemed to be jumbles of blurry red and black shapes. He squinted and bent closer. Then, as if a spell had been cast, the images came into focus.

He exhaled sharply and a cold shiver rushed across his skin. Now that he realised what he was looking at, each detail jumped out at him: the woman leaning against the wall and sobbing, the two men, one stumbling as he tried to hold the other up despite what had happened to his legs, another woman on her knees hovering over what looked like a child. Tiny figures trapped in the rectangles of the photographs, living out these moments of horror forever. Other people lay flat on the ground without moving at all.

Al slammed the file shut.

He couldn't identify the impulse that made him open the next file, but he reached for it with shaking his hands and opened the cover. This case described a potion manufacturer who'd switched to cheaper, substandard ingredients and poisoned over a hundred people to death before the Aurors identified the source and stopped him. Al leafed through the information, reading about the victims and their families. The company who created the potions had made such a large profit that they continued distributing the toxic product even after it was clear that people were dying.

He turned to the final file on his dad's desk. It involved a man who sought out and murdered pureblood witches. Al's eyes ran over the text, taking in the details of what he'd done to them. He turned the page, saw that there were photographs, and quickly closed the file.

The skin on his face felt cold and clammy. His heart thumped in his chest. He didn't move.

This was his dad's work, what he dealt with each and every day. This was what being an Auror meant.

"Al."

Dad would come home from work. He'd smile and kiss Mum. He'd joke around with Al, and James and Lily. He'd be Al's Dad. And yet he carried all of this around in his head each and every minute. He knew what people were, what they could do to each other. Al couldn't understand it. He didn't want to know; he didn't want to know the cruelty, selfishness and violence of which people were capable, and he didn't understand how his dad could live that way.

"_Al_."

With a jolt, Al realised that his dad was standing right next to him. He lifted his head and tried to smile. His dad's brow creased and his lips parted.

"I'm okay, I'm okay." Al pushed the chair back and got to his feet, still forcing the smile. He swayed, and his dad reached out and gripped his shoulder. Al looked into his face, his green eyes, so much like his own, staring back at him behind the glass of his spectacles. For a moment the warmth and pressure of his dad's hand kept him steady. Then he broke away and ran for the toilets to be sick.

Mr Malfoy's study seemed to be almost as big as the entire ground floor of Al's house. Al and Scorpius had settled in for the evening after a fun but tiring day, and there were no noisy siblings to interrupt their relaxation. The fire crackled in the background. Diddle brought cocoa and tiny cakes, then disappeared. The book-lined walls rose up around them to the vaulted ceiling; there was so much space, so much room to breathe.

Maybe it was the dark wood panelling and the imported carpets, or the way that it felt like you'd be committing a sin against art itself if you were to scratch a piece of furniture, or possibly it was the visage of Lucius Malfoy sneering continuously down from the wall, but despite the peace and quiet, Al was never able to completely relax.

Scorpius was doing an admirable job of trying to let him win at wizard chess. Al wanted to win just to make him happy, but he couldn't see more than a couple of moves ahead and Scorpius never did what he needed him to do with his pieces.

Mr Malfoy sat in a chair by the fire, reading a book. Scorpius's mother was working somewhere else in the Manor, having greeted Al when he first arrived and then disappeared. Al lay on the floor, stretched out on his side and propped up on his elbow. Scorpius sat cross-legged and studied the chessboard, his chin in his hands. The flickering fire gilded his hair and made his eyes gleam like a cat's.

"You'll tear your robes if you sit that way, Scorpius," said Mr Malfoy.

"Diddle will fix them if I do."

Mr Malfoy sighed and shut his book. He sat silently for a while, his eyes closed. Then he turned his head to look at Al. "What's this I hear about Zacharias Smith making your life miserable?"

Al startled, then glared at Scorpius.

Scorpius bit his lip. "It just came up in conversation."

Al turned around. Scorpius's father's eyebrows were raised in concern, but there was amusement in his expression.

For some reason, this made Al relax. He shrugged a shoulder and felt his face colour in the way he couldn't help whenever speaking to Mr Malfoy. "He likes to try and hex me. I don't understand why he does it. I've never done anything to him. He hated me from the first moment he saw me."

"He nearly put Al through a window once," said Scorpius.

"It's not that bad," Al muttered.

"It is. And he's a dreadful teacher. I doubt he could defend himself against a water imp, much less a banshee or a werewolf. And his knowledge of dark curses is really rather pathetic. I knew more about-"

"Yes, Scorpius," interrupted Mr Malfoy, then turned to Al again. "I suspect," he eventually said, "that you bear the brunt of the past in ways that are not at all your own fault. There are those who will always have difficulty seeing beyond your surname." He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers. "And Smith was a craven little shit in school. It seems he never grew out of it."

"Too much magnesium." Scorpius eyed one of his rooks longingly, then ordered a pawn to move forward a space. "Produces a negative photochemical reaction."

"You think Professor Smith is a vampire?" asked Al. He stared hard at the chessboard, hoping that something, some pattern, would appear. He decided to move his knight. He liked the knights.

Scorpius whispered to his queen; she slid three spaces then smashed the knight to bits. "No." Scorpius rolled his eyes. "We've seen him in daylight. I think he's polluted with an overabundance of dark magic based on too much magnesium in his blood. Possibly too much chlorine and bromine too. "

If Al moved his rook there, and Scorpius moved his pawn there… Then he could use his queen to knock out Scorpius's Bishop. He gave the order. Scorpius sighed sadly.

Mr Malfoy crossed his legs and picked up his drink. "Scorpius, you are talking nonsense."

Instead of pouting, Scorpius grinned at his father. "That's what _you_ think." Mr Malfoy smiled back at him and Al got the feeling it wasn't the first time they'd had that sort of conversation.

Scorpius gave Al a quick glance and moved a pawn, blocking the path of Al's queen. "Pay attention," he whispered, as if that would make it less obvious he was giving Al advice. "Look at your king."

Al did, but couldn't see any imminent danger.

"Dark magic doesn't arise from the pollution of blood. Quite the opposite, in fact. It comes from the basic and universal desire for power," said Mr Malfoy. "We are animals, Albus, Scorpius. Animals who run in packs. Our foremost concern is survival, and power ensures the greatest chance of survival."

Al thought of Mr Malfoy cradling his son after the bomb had gone off in Diagon Alley. A slew of images - the aftermath of more successful attacks - fluttered through his mind. Starting to feel sick, he swallowed and forced the memories away. He moved his remaining knight, then immediately saw his error and winced. Scorpius hissed through his teeth.

Mr Malfoy continued. Al wished he would stop, but it felt impolite not to pay attention. "All human struggle, this scuffling about in the dirt, mirrors nothing more than our desire to give ourselves access to the easiest and most plentiful supply of meat." He leaned forwards, and Al glanced away from the chessboard to look at him. The firelight flickered across Mr Malfoy's face, tracing the planes with shadows before illuminating them away again. "Dark magic gives us the means to eliminate the competition."

He didn't smile. Al didn't either. Mr Malfoy tapped his lower lip with his index finger, studying his face. A hum of discomfort buzzed in Al's chest.

"Checkmate," said Scorpius. "Sorry, Al."

"Pardon?" Al couldn't look away from Scorpius's father.

"I've got your king! I've won. Again."

"Oh. Right. Er, well done then."

Mr Malfoy leant even closer. "Listen, Albus. If you agree to certain conditions, I'm going to teach you something. Something that could give you an edge over 'Professor' Smith."

The buzz in Al's chest crackled and spread. When Mr Malfoy gestured, Al got to his feet and sat down in the chair opposite him. He could sense Scorpius watching them from the floor.

Once Al was settled, Mr Malfoy spoke a single word. Then he explained how to use it.


	5. Year 5

Year 5

There was still a bit of warmth in the air, although undercut by a creeping chill. Scorpius wasn't waiting for Al outside the greenhouse. Al waited for ten minutes and then began wandering towards the Quidditch pitch, thinking that Scorpius must be flying.

Sometimes it was hard to draw Scorpius down from the sky and get him off his broom. He said the rush and sound of the air cleared his mind. For Al it was less a 'clearing of his mind' and more that it was hard to think of anything else when you were perched high in the sky with only a stick of wood keeping you from plummeting to your death. He suspected Scorpius saw it differently, though. He didn't seem to feel any fear at all in the air.

Al loved watching Scorpius fly, especially when his own feet were planted firmly on the ground.

Sure enough, as Al neared the Quidditch pitch, one of the black specs in the air realised into Scorpius. Al could see his bright hair whipping about as he zigzagged like a dragonfly. Another shape, slightly bigger and entirely dark, flew along side him, occasionally pulling away and then moving close again.

Al stopped, feeling the chill of evening begin to creep beneath his robes. Scorpius flew alone unless he'd managed to convince Al to join him. But at that moment he was most definitely not alone.

Gradually, the two fliers descended and then landed at the far side of the pitch. They remained there, talking, and eventually began to move towards the locker rooms.

An urge like an itch made Al hurry to meet them. When he drew close enough to recognise Scorpius's companion, however, he stopped short. That feeling was new - cold, fluttering panic combined with even colder and completely focussed hate. It actually hurt as it shivered through his chest and arms. Al took a few deep breaths and hoped to hell that what he was feeling didn't show on his face.

Dashiell Flint, a tall, seventh year Slytherin, walked side by side with Scorpius, his stride loose and easy. Despite having just come off his broom, his hair fell smooth and wavy over his shoulders. He grinned down at Scorpius, his cheek dimpling, and Scorpius gazed back at him, flushed and shining.

From the flying, Al told himself. That was all. He was just a bit red in the face because he'd been flying.

The thing about Flint… He was gay. And everybody knew he was gay, as Flint didn't bother to hide it. In fact, he rather spent a bit more time than you'd think was necessary snogging other boys right in the corridor where anyone could see. Different boys and all sorts of boys, boys who only ever dated girls otherwise. There was a rumour that he had a book full of names, some crossed out, some highlighted, and some with big, inky stars next to them. He had bright blue eyes and was viciously handsome. Al had cast more than one Muffling Charm on his bed curtains with Dash Flint in mind.

And there he was, draping his arm around Scorpius's shoulders and putting his lips much closer to Scorpius's ear than was necessary as he spoke.

Al cleared his throat and croaked out, "Scorpius?"

They both looked up. Scorpius smiled. Flint's eyes locked on Al's face and he grinned.

He tossed a lock of hair out of his eyes, then gave Al a nod. "Potter," he said. "You can have him back now. I'm afraid I've left him a bit damp and sweaty. Maybe he'll let you wash him off if you ask nicely."

"I'm sure I'll be fine without Al's help," said Scorpius, looking at Flint as if he were mad.

"Ah," said Flint to Al. "Guess not then."

Al had nothing - no witty comebacks or smart retorts. He just stood there, feeling as pinned, gutted and exposed as the frogs they'd dissected in Potions.

Flint gave him a wink, then turned back to Scorpius. "We'll work on building up speed tomorrow. I've got a few tricks I can pass along."

"Great," said Scorpius, beaming at him. Flint squeezed Scoprius's shoulder, then disappeared into the locker room.

Scorpius finally turned his attention to Al, and his smile fell away. "What's the matter?"

"You're friends with Flint now?" That was all he could manage.

"He said he's going to teach me how to do the Wronski Feint."

"But you're already a brilliant flier. You don't need his help."

"I'm good, but Dash is better. And he's a great teacher. My spins and turns have improved immeasurably since he started giving me lessons." He turned towards the locker room. "I'll just get cleaned up."

Al grabbed his wrist. "You can shower back at the Castle."

Scorpius raised an eyebrow.

"It's getting cold," said Al.

"All right."

They set off together. Scorpius kept shooting Al quizzical looks.

"But why is he even bothering?" Al blurted. "You're not in Slytherin."

Scorpius stopped walking and shifted his Quidditch bag from one shoulder to the other. "Our fathers are old friends. And he said that he sees certain qualities in me that he wants to encourage and develop. That he likes the way I move on a broom."

Al ground his teeth together. "I don't trust him. He's dodgy. Everyone knows that."

Scorpius went still. "Dodgy?"

"Not because of _that_."

Scorpius narrowed his eyes. "Because he's in Slytherin?"

"No! Because… Well, it's because of him that Bernie Kringle tried to throw himself off the top of the Astronomy Tower last year."

"That's just a rumour. And I'm only taking flying lessons from him."

Don't, thought Al. Don't spend time with him. Don't let him near you.

"Well… okay. If it's just flying lessons."

Scorpius's voice went quiet and he looked at the ground. "What else would it be?"

They trudged towards the Castle. Scorpius laced his fingers together with Al's, which made walking up the hill slow going. By the time they'd reached the great oak doors, however, Al had relaxed.

The peaceful feeling lasted several more hours and through dinner. Then it was time to go to the common room and study for O.W.L.s, and Al's stomach began to hurt.

"They're a doddle, really," said James, leaning over the back of Al's chair. "All the professors wind you up, make you think you'll get strait Ts and ruin your life if you don't spend every waking hour studying like a super-swot. But then you take them and they really aren't that bad."

Al stared down at his Transfiguration notes and wondered if his brother would like the way they tasted.

There was some secret, some code or way of thinking that Professor Commisceo and the other students understood and were keeping from Al. He was sure of it. Because he tried. He tried as hard as he could. And the words and formulas just flipped around in his head as if they changed from one minute to the next.

To enter the Auror programme, he'd need a minimum of five N.E.W.T.s, with nothing under an E in DADA, Charms, Potions, Transfiguration and Herbology.

He wasn't worried about Potions or Herbology, and with Scorpius's help he'd been improving in Charms. He was still struggling with Transfiguration, though, and Commisceo didn't accept N.E.W.T. students who got less than an E on their O.W.L.. If he didn't crack the seemingly magic code and figure out how to change a rabbit into a bottle of ink he could kiss his dreams goodbye.

And that wasn't even taking Defence into account. Al didn't let himself think about his DADA O.W.L..

Al woke up on Wednesday, the day they had DADA class, with a headache and a sense that he was getting ill. He always felt that way on Wednesday mornings. He didn't eat much breakfast, and afterwards Scorpius practically glued himself to Al's side as they walked up the stairs. This was nice, but it didn't bolster Al's confidence in himself.

At least Smith had stopped hexing him. Ostensibly, it was because this term they were concentrating on detecting and destroying dark magical objects. Al found himself standing in front of the class, trying to decide which of two boots was cursed with a spell that would try to gnaw his foot off at the ankle if he put it on. Both boots were made of worn, filthy leather. Both had holes at the toe and beneath the heels. There was something about the way the tongue flapped out of the one on the left, however, that looked a bit hungry to Al. He waved his wand over it and said, "_Specialis Revelio_." The toe of the boot curled upward, separating from the sole, and growled.

"This one." Al pointed at the boot, relieved. He glanced up at Smith to gauge his reaction and saw the professor frowning. For a moment Al was sure he was going to make Al put the boot on anyway, but instead Smith waved his fingers and sent him back to his seat.

As Al slid into his chair, Scorpius beamed at him, and Al knew right away what was about to happen. He put his hand on Scorpius wrist.

"It seems to me," said Smith with a thin smile, "that we should test Mr Potter's theory. Do I have a volunteer?"

The class was silent but for the shuffling of feet.

"Mr Malfoy, then. Come now, let's see if Potter got it right or wrong."

Startled, Scorpius didn't move.

Al did. The boot burst into flames and then crumbled into a pile of ash.

As the class murmured and someone on the far side applauded, Smith stared incredulous at Al's extended wand.

Al swallowed and pressed his lips together, looking Smith in the eye.

It was completely worth the two weeks of detention he got.

"That was actually a rather good Incendius Charm, Al," said Scorpius, smiling, as they left the classroom later.

"I wonder what he'll make me do for detention. Maybe he'll send me out with Hagrid. I wouldn't mind that."

Al needed to go out to the greenhouses for Herbology and Scorpius had Transfiguration. "See you before lunch."

Scorpius nodded and pulled out his Baoding Spheres. They slipped from his fingers and rose slowly into the air. The look on Scorpius's face made Al stop in his tracks, but before he could do anything, a low voice said, "Baoding Spheres. They're from China, aren't they?"

Flint leaned against the wall, lazily twirling his wand and making the spheres spiral around each other in the air. Scorpius expression changed from distress to pleasure and Al's muscles turned to stone.

"Yes!" said Scorpius, plucking the spheres from the air and putting them back in his pocket. "My father brought them back for me. They were invented during the Ming Dynasty in a town called Baoding and they're wonderful for improving one's circulation."

"Can I hold them?" Flint lowered his lashes and smiled. "I'll be gentle."

"Well…" Scorpius bit his lip.

"Come on." Flint pushed of the wall and slunk towards Scorpius. He stood in front of him and slid his hand into the pocket of Scorpius's robes. Scorpius's mouth opened, but he didn't say anything. "They're warm," said Flint.

A tight sound escaped from Al's throat. Flint glanced over Scorpius's shoulder. As his eyes met Al's, they crinkled at the corners. He slid his arm around Scorpius's shoulders and ushered him away. "Is this how you do it?" The sound of the sphere's filled the corridor.

"Yes," said Scorpius. "A little faster."

"They feel really good in my hand."

Al watched them disappear down the staircase. His skin felt cold.

"Al?"

The pressure of a hand on his shoulder made him jump. Lily was looking in the same direction as he'd been.

"You should tell him," she said.

Al turned to her. "What do you-?"

"Come on." Lily gave him a direct look. "You're going to let that slime ball get in there before you?"

"Scorpius isn't a 'there'," Al snapped.

Lily rubbed small circles against the top of his spine. "I know. But for fuck's sake, Al. It's about time. Now or never, ay?"

For a few long moments, Al was silent. He'd never actually admitted his feelings to Lily. He'd never told anyone. "Yeah," he said at last, and it was as if something that had been frozen in his chest was beginning to melt. "You're right. And I will."

The cage full of white mice teemed with wriggling activity. They creatures skittered about, climbing over each other, and poked their noses through the bars. Some huddled in piles, their chests rising and falling rapidly as they slept. Some lifted their noses in the air and looked up at Al as he stared down at them.

He looked away from the cage to the other mouse - the one Professor Smith had already taken out and killed. While the caged mice were a mass of frantic life, this mouse was utterly still, from its tiny, extended feet to its dull, empty eyes.

"Have you got it?" asked Smith.

A lot of animals had died for the benefit of Professor Smith's office. On the floor beneath the leather sofa sat a tiger skin rug. The head of a stag hung above the mantel of the grey stone fireplace. The candelabra hanging from the ceiling was made of antlers. Paintings of hunting scenes hung in various places against the dark-red walls. Oddly, the books on the shelves and the objects on Smith's heavy wooden desk were arranged with an almost fussy sense of order. They contrasted with the lush masculinity of the furnishings almost as much as Smith himself.

"I'll demonstrate again." Smith opened the cage and dipped in a gloved hand. When it emerged, he held a squirming white mouse by the tail. He closed the cage and pressed the mouse flat against the table. He pinched the base of the mouse's skull with one hand and gave its tail a hard yank with the other. There was a faint crack. The mouse twitched and then lay still.

"Once you've killed it, lay it out on the tray. I'll show you how to remove the pineal glands tomorrow."

Al looked at the dead mice until his eyes began to glaze over.

Smith went on. "The pineal glands of mice are extremely valuable potion ingredients. I promised Professor Divinorum that I'd have several jars for her by the end of the week, so you'd best get to work."

Al didn't move but only stared at Smith's clicking fingers.

"Well? Get on with it."

"Please, Sir," he said, knowing it was hopeless. "I… don't want to do this."

"You should have thought about that before you once again tried to undermine _my_ authority in _my_ classroom. You will do it or I'll fail you. How do you expect you'll catch dark wizards if you can't even hurt a mouse? That's what they'll say. Albus Potter, he couldn't hurt a mouse." He rested his arms on the tabletop and lent down towards Al; the candlelight made his eyes glitter.

Al shrank away from Smith's leering face. He swallowed. And again.

"What a joke you are, trying to follow in your daddy's footsteps." Smith grinned. "You aren't half the man he thinks he is."

Mr Malfoy had said that Al wouldn't be caught. They'd never suspect a student of using such a dark curse. They'd think Smith had taken a bad potion or that someone had played a practical joke on him. And if Al was careful and didn't cause Smith any physical or permanent harm, then there wouldn't even be much of an investigation.

"You can't make me do this."

"But of course I can. Your choice, Potter. Complete the task or get a T for the entire term."

He knew that if he didn't deal with the mice, someone else would. With shaking hands, he put on the gloves that had been lying next to him on the table and pulled a mouse out of the cage. It twisted in the air in front of his face, making tiny squeaking sounds. He pressed it to the table and pinched it behind the head. He grasped its tail.

Its body rose and fell at a frantic pace as if it knew what was about to happen.

As soon as he let go of it, the mouse skittered off the table, leapt to the floor, and zoomed across the rug before disappearing beneath a cabinet.

Al yanked off the gloves and pushed away from the table, breathing hard.

"A T then," said Smith, sneering. "Can't say I'm surprised."

Al strode out of Smith's office. He slammed the door behind him and moved quickly towards Gryffindor Tower.

His heart seemed to be beating directly inside his skull. That was it then. DADA was over for him. Becoming an Auror was over too.

Something smacked hard into his shoulder. "Watch where you're going," a boy shouted. Al didn't stop to see who it was, but walked faster. By the time he reached the landing diverging between Gryffindor and Ravenclaw Towers, he had to pause and rest against the staircase railing. He wiped his brow with his sleeve and then moved off into the corridor.

There he saw Scorpius pressed against the wall. Flint leant over him with one hand fingering a lock of white blond hair. Flint was speaking, his voice low and sweet. Scorpius stared up at him with huge, wide-open eyes.

Al stumbled. He managed not to actually fall flat on his face, but he might as well have been hit with a Jelly-Legs jinx. The pounding in his head intensified into a whine. Without further thought, he launched himself down the corridor towards Flint, leapt at him, and punched him as hard as he could on the shoulder.

Flint staggered back a step back, his eyes widening in surprise as he recognised his assailant. He broke into a grin.

"Get away from him!" Al looked up at the older, taller boy and didn't care one whit if he got beaten to a pulp. It was worth it just to have got that one punch in. He glanced at Scorpius and found him staring hard at Al, his mouth open. Al took a hitching breath and turned back to Flint.

"Well, well." Flint crossed his arms. "The Gryffindor in you finally shows itself. I'm impressed, Potter."

"Just…" Al reached out and shoved Flint's chest. Flint took another step backwards, laughing. "Leave Scorpius alone. He doesn't need you."

"That's for him to decide, wouldn't you say? And I didn't hear any protests."

Al felt Scorpius's fingers touch his arm. "We were just talking."

"Oh, come on. If I'd got here a second later he'd have been all over you. And… And what would you have done then?" He hated how he couldn't get angry or upset without his eyes starting to fill.

Scorpius's face was bright pink. He licked his lips. "Al?"

'Now or never,' Lily had said.

Al lunged forward and smashed his lips against Scorpius's. Scorpius made a noise like startled rabbit and fell back against the wall. It was a terrible kiss; it hurt and Al hit more cheek than mouth. He immediately pulled back. There was a loud ringing in his ears, but through it he could hear Flint laughing and then the rumble of someone's footsteps climbing the staircase. Scorpius… Scorpius gaped at him, one hand holding the back of his head where it had smacked into the wall.

"Oi, Flint." Al had never been less pleased to hear James's voice. "What are you doing with my brother? Get back to the dungeons before I-"

Al squeezed his eyes shut tight and curled his hands into fists. Then he turned and bolted through the Portrait Hole, pushing aside a girl who shouted angrily after him. He ran through the common room and up the stairs, and didn't stop until he reached his dorm and his bed. Once he'd sealed the bed-curtains shut, he considered if it would be possible to stay there, hidden, for the rest of the school year.

His lips tingled where they'd pressed against Scorpius's.

Scorpius's face afterwards - cheeks tinged pink, lips parted, eyes entirely focussed on Al. He'd been shocked. But he hadn't looked upset or disgusted.

Al drew his knees to his chest and pressed his forehead against them. If he ever found the courage to leave Gryffindor Tower again, it would be interesting to see what happened next.

He avoided breakfast the following morning and instead gobbled down the biscuits remaining in the packet Kristoph had left on their dorm windowsill. Then he went off to Potions, his fingers crossed that he wouldn't run into, well, anyone. He came quite close to filling the entire classroom with thick, green sludge, but fortunately Kristoph managed to throw enough Hellebore into their over-flowing concoction to keep it from developing consciousness and taking over the world.

After that it was time for Charms with the Ravenclaws. Al's mind buzzed and his stomach did somersaults as he climbed the stairs to the third floor. It was strange to feel scared of seeing Scorpius. He entered the Charms corridor to the hum of Scorpius's Baoding Spheres. Scorpius stood fidgeting near the wall, his hand working furiously. As soon as he saw Al, he shoved the balls back in his pocket and went still. Al approached him. They looked at each other.

Al examined Scorpius's face, each plane and curve so completely familiar. He glanced at Scorpius's lips, and by the time he looked back to his eyes something in them had changed. Al's heart began to race. He took at step away.

"Wait." Cool fingers wound around Al's wrist, and he halted. The rest of the students filtered into the classroom. The corridor was empty but for Al and Scorpius.

Scorpius leaned back against the wall, his head turned to look at Al. He wore his usual dreamy expression, but patches of pink tinged his cheeks and his eyes were especially vivid.

Al swallowed. They were pretty much of a height. Scorpius had no more than an inch on him. He settled back against the wall next to Scorpius, letting their shoulders touch. Scorpius's hand remained locked around his wrist.

"Al."

"Scorpius." Al smiled, a growing tightness in his stomach.

His skin prickled. Scorpius's eyelashes fluttered and then he leaned over and pressed his lips to Al's. After a moment he pulled back, pupils dilated, his breath coming fast. Al's wrist hurt where Scorpius gripped it.

Al took a deep, sharp breath, grateful for the solidity of the wall at his back.

"Oi!" Beagán's head poked out of the classroom and Al exhaled. "What're you doing? Flitwick says to come in now."

Scorpius leaned towards him and Al's breath caught in his throat.

"I wish you'd said," whispered Scorpius.

Scorpius led him towards the classroom, only letting go of his wrist once they'd entered. Al slid into his seat. A distant murmur told him that Flitwick had begun the lecture. Al gripped the edge of the desk. Need twisted with pleasure grew more insistent with each beat of his pulse as though his desire, finally set free, would consume him if he didn't act on it immediately.

He stood so abruptly that he banged his thighs against his desk.

Flitwick paused, mid wand wave. "Mr Potter?"

"I'm not feeling very well, sir. I think I need to go see Madame Pomfrey."

Scorpius got to his feet as well. "I'll see that he gets there, if it's all right, sir."

Flitwick narrowed his eyes, but apparently Al's flushed appearance and rapid breathing convinced him. He nodded.

They stumbled out of the classroom into the corridor. It was all too bright and public. And the fall of Scorpius's hair, the curve of his neck, his dusk-pink lips, they were all Al's, and he need to have them right away, because he'd already waited four years. Grinning, Scorpius pulled Al through a door and into a room. It was dark inside and full of glass cabinets, the only light coming through a window on the far wall. Holding hands, they circled each other, and moved back into the depths of the room until they found an empty alcove that fell within the range of the single beam of light.

Scorpius backed into the corner. Al dealt with the sudden wave of terror by finally kissing Scorpius properly. The thrill of their lips meeting swept it clean away. He curled a hand behind Scorpius's neck and twined his fingers in his hair, then cupped his jaw. Scorpius gripped Al's shoulders. The firm, gentle pressure of his kiss sent hard shivers down Al's spine.

"I wish you'd said," said Scorpius again, the words whispered against Al's mouth.

"I wanted to." Al kissed him again, harder this time. "But I was scared you wouldn't like it. That you might hate me for it."

"Al." Scorpius's breath came fast. "I could never hate you. Not in a million years. Not for any reason."

Al tried parting his lips to see what would happen. Scorpius opened his mouth as well and the kisses became wet and even harder, until they were both gasping. Al's knees weren't going to hold him up any longer. He pulled their bodies together, but their robes twisted between his legs and kept him from feeling anything. "Can I?" he asked, pleading with his eyes and already starting to unfasten Scorpius's robes at the collar.

Scorpius nodded and sighed. His eyes closed for a moment as Al tried to get his fingers to work on the tiny hooks. Finally, he got them open and pulled them off Scorpius's shoulders. He shrugged his own off as well, and they stood only in trousers and shirts. Scorpius was bent slightly backward, his head and shoulders supported by the wall as Al leant over him, kissing him on his jaw and his ear and his throat. Al's felt his hair being pulled. Scorpius whined and they slid to the dusty floor.

"Would you…" breathed Al. "Would you really have gone with Flint if I hadn't done anything?"

His hand shook as he slid it beneath Scorpius's shirt to touch smooth, soft skin. Scorpius arched up against him, and Al could feel him hard against his hip. He cried out and bit into Scorpius's shoulder, wanting so badly but not knowing what to do.

"Never," said Scorpius. "It's you. Only you. It will only ever be you."

They didn't speak again for a while, but moved together, legs tangled and gripping. They kissed until their kisses became gasps, and Scorpius jerked his hips and tightened his fingers in Al's hair until it hurt. Al froze and cried out. Nothing had ever felt so good before and nothing ever would again.

Al was happy - happier than he'd been in ages. So why the scene playing out before him made his anger towards Smith finally boil over into action, Al couldn't say. He'd been descending the Grand Staircase on his way to Herbology, when he heard Smith's nasal voice telling off another student.

"And fifteen points from Slytherin for not moving fast enough."

Al halted and peeked down into the Entrance Hall through the balusters. He could only see Smith's back, but the child he was speaking to was small, no more than a first or second year. As the boy shook and turned his face away, a rush of pure hatred moved Al's hand to his pocket before he even realised what he was doing. His fingers closed around his wand and Mr Malfoy's voice echoed through his mind.

It wasn't as if he was going to hurt Smith, just humiliate him a little, and Smith deserved it. He _deserved_ it. Al had nothing he could use against him to protect himself; Smith had all the power. He'd held Al's future in the palm of his hand and then crushed it.

Smith began clicking his fingers in the child's face, making him flinch. Al scanned the staircase. But for him, it was empty.

He took a deep breath, his pulse racing, and said, "_Imperio_!"

A caustic vine of heat shot through his arm and hand, and his wand vibrated, making his fingers tingle. He watched how Smith's head moved as he talked, saw his bony, waving hand, and thought, _Dance_.

Instantly, Smith's body exploded into motion. His arms went up and his feet began skittering rhythmically across the floor. The small Slytherin quickly backed away, eyes wide with shock. Al pocketed his wand and crept down the staircase.

There were a dozen or so other students in the Entrance Hall, and they all turned to stare at Smith as he leapt and spun. Al licked his lips, feeling light-headed. Smith put his hands on his hips and jumped and kicked, then he stretched his arms in the air and curved his hands to meet above his head. He tiptoed gracefully in a circle. He wore a blank, dreamy expression, and it was of the oddest things Al had ever seen.

The other students began to mutter to each other. "That's Professor Smith!" "What's he doing?" "Merlin, he's lost it."

Laughter shook Al's chest. He put his hand over his mouth. He couldn't look away. He'd done this. _He_ had done this.

Smith did a pirouette and then several long leaps. As the crowd watching him grew, several students began clapping in time to his movements. Others cheered and shouted out requests: "Do the Conga!" "More waltzing." "Come on Professor, let us see you shake it!"

Then a loud, sharp voice rang through the Entrance Hall and everyone else went quiet. "Professor Smith! What on Earth is going on?" Al turned and saw McGonagall, the Headmistress, marching towards them.

Al shoved his hand into his pocket and muttered, "_Finite_."

Smith stumbled to a halt mid-glissade and his arms flopped down to his sides. He blinked rapidly as his face cleared, and then his lips parted and started to tremble. He took a step back and hunched his shoulders, scanning the room. Al had never seen his face so red, not even when Smith had been furious.

"The Staff Room," continued McGonagall. Students scattered out of her way as she swept through the Entrance Hall. "Immediately." She disappeared between the gargoyles. His head down, Smith ran after her and slammed the door behind him.

Herbology would have already started. Al darted through the Hall and out into the grounds. He headed towards the greenhouses, but instead of stopping, he went on until he reached the Forbidden Forest. After looking around to make sure no one was watching, he pushed through the bushes into the thicket. He didn't go far - just deep enough to ensure he wouldn't be seen. After a minute he found a small, moss-blanketed clearing and sunk to his knees.

It had felt so strange. He'd expected a sense of triumph or satisfaction, but instead he was numb with a small, hot prickle in his stomach that threatened to grow stronger. Watching Smith leap and twirl had been amusing, but Al hadn't enjoyed it. The look on Smith's face once Al removed the curse had vanished any pleasure he'd taken.

But he'd done it now and he couldn't take it back.

As Al crept through the Entrance Hall on his way to dinner, he heard sobbing. Feeling sick, he approached one of the stone gargoyles and hid behind it to peek into the staff room. Smith sat in a chair with his head in his hands. His shoulders shook. McGonagall stood in front of him, her arms crossed.

"But I wasn't drinking," Smith sobbed. "I never drink during school hours. I was hexed, it's the only explanation."

"That was no Tarantallegra, Zacharias."

"It was a student. None of them respect me. Or one of the staff, I wouldn't put it past them either."

Al pulled away. He walked quickly into Great Hall and found a seat at the Gryffindor table. The meal was already in progress.

James beamed. "D'ja hear about Smith?"

"Yeah." Al nodded. "Imagine that." His voice felt like it belonged to someone else.

"Wanker finally lost his marbles."

"I guess so."

"I'd have thought you'd be a bit more pleased, seeing as you're his favourite punching bag. I heard he's bawling like a baby in the Staff Room. I hope he gets fired."

Al nodded again, staring at his empty plate.

"What's with you?" James glared, and then his face relaxed into a knowing smile. "Ah, you're worried about O.W.L.s." He ruffled Al's hair. "Poor kid. It will all be over soon."

"Yeah," said Al. He spooned some food he didn't intend to eat onto his plate. "It's just O.W.L.s."

The sickly prickle in his stomach was growing. He poked at the roast beef and potatoes and moved them about.

When he left the Great Hall after the meal had ended, however, he found Scorpius waiting for him, his cheeks already pink and his face lit with happiness, and everything else fell away.

They'd been using the Trophy Room, but then Old Man Filch shuffled in at an awkward moment and there had only been time to pull on their clothes and flee while his back was turned. Broom cupboards were uncomfortable and held risks similar to the Trophy Room. Sometimes they went to the Forbidden Forest. More often they climbed the spiral staircase to the Astronomy Tower and cast _Colloportus_ to seal the door behind them.

Scorpius could cast a mean Cushioning Charm, so the stone floor never bothered them. That afternoon Scorpius leaned back against the parapet while Al unbuttoned his shirt. Al took this time, looking into Scorpius's eyes and leaning in for occasional kisses. Kissing Scorpius was enough to make Al's pulse race on its own. It sent him into a haze of want and bliss in which nothing else in the world mattered; nothing but Scorpius's lips and breath and soft tongue and the delicious ache in his chest and elsewhere.

When the shirt was open, he buried his face against Scorpius's neck and then slipped slowly downward. His cheek slid along Scorpius's mostly hairless chest. Al pecked small, soft kisses around Scorpius's navel; Scorpius whimpered and the sound drove Al to lean into him and tighten his grip on his hips. He paused to catch his breath and glanced up. Scorpius looked back down at him, his hair fluttering in the breeze, his lips red and parted, and his eyes illuminated by sunlight. Al ran his hand up the insides of Scorpius's trousers, and when Scorpius moaned Al closed his eyes and shuddered.

It was exquisite. It was too much. Al didn't know what to do with this kind of happiness. It made his heart beat so fast it almost felt like fear.

He pulled down Scorpius's trousers and pants and lost himself in the taste and feel of him. Scorpius twisted and tugged at Al's hair. He made sounds that vibrated through Al's body until Al couldn't think. He could only move faster until Scorpius's hips juddered and he cried out, "Al, Al…"

Al trembled in empathy and swallowed as best he could. Scorpius stayed upright, gasping, for a few moments longer then tumbled to the floor and tugged Al's trousers down. It was just icing. Al wanted it - Merlin, what Scorpius did to him with his mouth and fingers felt good - but he didn't need it. All he needed was to feel Scorpius shudder to pieces with pleasure in his hands.

Their sweat cooled quickly and there was never enough time. Scorpius wanted to get to the library and do some studying before dinner. They pulled their clothes back on, pausing to stroke and kiss, getting in as much as possible. Al still felt dizzy and euphoric as they descended the staircase. He watched his step and held tight to Scorpius's hand to keep steady.

As soon as they entered the second floor corridor, Al knew something was wrong. A group of chatting girls walking towards them went silent and stared. He stared back, and they averted their faces and hurried by. Al stopped walking and looked at Scorpius.

"I don't know," said Scorpius.

They continued on their way, but the next students they passed shot Al sympathetic looks and then whispered to each other. The remaining bliss from the Tower evaporated. "Something's happened."

The sound of a girl sobbing emerged from the open door of a classroom.

His muscles tight with fear, Al began to run towards Gryffindor Tower; Scorpius followed at his heels. They'd climbed two staircases, panting hard, when Beagán appeared running down towards them. He stopped short, equally out of breath, and said, "Al. We've been looking for you. It's okay. Everything okay. James got an owl."

Al sunk down and sat on a step. "What happened?"

"There was a curse set off at the Ministry and a bunch of people were killed. But your dad's okay. He wasn't there."

"P- People were killed?" Al and Beagán both turned to look at Scorpius, who had gone very pale. "Who was killed?"

"I don't know who," whispered Beagán. "I just know that Al's dad's okay."

"I… I need to find out…" Scorpius reached into his pocket, but the spheres tumbled from his fingers and bounced away down the staircase, thumping and chiming.

Al got back to his feet and took hold of Scorpius to keep him upright.

Beagán cringed. "I'm sorry, I forgot your dad worked there too. But I'm sure… I haven't heard anything about-"

Al staggered and almost fell under Scorpius's sagging weight. "Beagán, help me get him off the stairs."

They pulled him up to the landing. Scorpius buried his face against Al's shoulder and clung to him. Al held him tight, not caring who saw, and looked helplessly at Beagán.

James emerged from around the corner at the far end of the corridor and spotted them. He broke into a run. When he reached them, he said, "You heard? Dad's okay."

Al nodded. "What about Mr Malfoy?"

James's brow creased. He looked at Scorpius, and said, "Oh…" then put his hand in his hair. "I… I didn't hear. No." He nodded at Al. "Mr Malfoy is fine. I mean, Dad didn't mention him in his owl. Only Sarah Trent's mum and Gabriel Brown's father." He crouched down and gently touched Scorpius's shoulder. "Your dad's fine, Malfoy. He wasn't hurt."

Scorpius's grip around Al's neck relaxed and Al stared at his brother.

"What?" asked James.

"Thanks," said Al.

"They should bring back The Kiss for Edmund Sythe and his lot. Bunch of murdering bastards." James sat back and rubbed his eyes.

"Is Lily all right?"

"Yeah, she's fine."

Al sighed. He wanted to brush the hair off Scorpius's still pale face and kiss him. He settled for a squeeze around his shoulders.

"Too much magnesium," Scorpius muttered.

Al did brush the hair off his face then. "Pardon?"

"Brocken Spectre. Their blood is polluted. Too much dark magic."

Scorpius looked straight at Al, but there was no focus in his eyes. "Scor-"

"I'm going to owl father." Scorpius broke away from Al and got shakily to his feet. "I'll see you at dinner."

"Scorpius, wait."

Al watched him run off down the stairs.

"He'll be all right," said James.

Al stood and continued to stare down the empty staircase. "Yeah," he said. "I'm sure he'll be fine."

There had been a definite change in Smith's teaching methods since he was forced to dance ballet in front of half the school. He didn't become a better teacher - in fact, his tendency to drop things and forget what he was saying made learning anything from him virtually impossible - but he was definitely a less aggressive teacher. He still snapped and glared, but there was no more blatant baiting.

While Al enjoyed the respite, he didn't enjoy knowing that he was responsible. When Smith misspelled 'magical armour' whilst scribbling on the blackboard, the students snickered. Smith froze, looked at what he'd written, and then set the piece of chalk down. Nobody lost any points. No one got detention. Smith walked to the window and stood, looking out, until people began to murmur. Smith was still standing there when the bell rang. The students gathered their belongings and left the classroom.

Al heard a Ravenclaw boy say, "If I get anything less than an O on my O.W. L. because of him, I'm sending Mummy to the Headmistress. I didn't come to Hogwarts to watch my professor stare out a window."

Al had no desire to bring back the old Smith, but the sense that he'd done something horribly wrong gnawed at the back of his neck.

He walked as far as he could towards Herbology with Scorpius before they had to part. Once in class again, the Fanged Geraniums absorbed his attention. Then there were roast beef sandwiches for lunch and Olivia demonstrated how to tie a cherry stem in a knot with her tongue, which Al found both fascinating and repulsive. By the time classes had finished in the afternoon, he wasn't thinking about Smith at all.

He spotted Scorpius as he was striding quickly through the Entrance Hall and wanted to grab him and swing him round, but settled for a grin and a nod towards the direction of the Astronomy Tower.

Scorpius stopped, looked surprised, and then shifted from one foot to the next. "I need to go the Owlery. I have to send an owl to Father."

"You already sent him one today. Come on. Soon it will be too cold."

Scorpius hesitated. "I'll be quick," he said, then turned and began walking away, looking back at Al over his shoulder as he went. "You go on. I'll meet you after."

"Scorpius…"

Scorpius disappeared through the doorway out of the Castle.

Al shoved his hands into his pockets and began to walk slowly towards the staircase. On his way, he glanced absentmindedly into the Staff Room and then stopped short when he saw his dad dressed in his Auror's uniform and speaking with Headmistress McGonagall.

He wasn't sure why this sent a bolt of fear through his stomach, but it did. Dad glanced in Al's direction, spotted him and gestured for him to come over. Al crept into the forbidden realm of the Staff Room. He shot the Headmistress a guilty glance, feeling somewhat naughty despite his father's invitation, but she only nodded indulgently. The lines around Dad's eyes were deeper than the last time he'd seen him and his hair looked a bit wild. When he looked at Al and smiled, however, much of the fatigue vanished from his face.

Dad gathered him into a tight hug. Al glanced out the open door, saw no one, then relaxed and hugged him back.

"What are you doing here?" Al asked after pulling away.

A house-elf with a nose like a courgette scuttled over and placed a cup of tea and a plate bearing a small tart on the table next to Al. Al grinned and sat down, then took a large bite of the tart before looking back to his dad.

"Well," said the Headmistress. "I'll leave you for the moment, Harry. We'll talk more after dinner. You'll join us at the Staff Table?"

"Of course."

McGonagall left the Staff Room.

"I'm sure you've heard about what went on with Professor Smith," said Dad.

Al took a sip of tea to hide his expression.

"Well, it looks like he was cursed. Or at least subjected to a pretty heavy-duty hex. There's going to be an investigation." He sighed, pulled out a chair and sat down angled toward Al. "It's the last thing we need at the moment, to be honest. I can't really spare the Aurors."

With his heart pounding hard in his chest, Al asked, "What will happen? You'll be questioning the students?"

Dad nodded. "We'll ask questions and do some searches. Find out if anyone had a grudge against Sm- If anyone had particular reason to dislike Professor Smith."

Al felt a prickle of warmth bloom across his cheeks. His dad's eyes focussed sharply.

"Al?"

Al tried as hard as he could not to squirm.

"You know something about this?"

He'd never really been able to hide anything from his father. His eyes prickled. "He… He just wouldn't leave me alone. I didn't mean to hurt him. I just wanted to show him… He _deserved_ it. But I didn't think that…"

It had been a while since he'd had such concentrated attention from his father. Al blinked away the tears. "I'm sorry."

"You're saying Smith was… What? Hurting you?" Dad's knuckles were white where they gripped the armrests of his chair.

"He hates me. I don't know why. He always has. He used to throw hexes at me in front of everyone and he tried to make me kill mice. He said I'll never be an Auror, that I'm not half the man you-"

Dad held up a hand to stop Al. He took a shuddering breath and spoke in a low, clear voice. "He won't do that again. Any of it. I promise."

Al felt a tear tickle down his cheek and he wiped it angrily away.

"You need to tell me what you did, Albus."

Al swallowed. "I made him dance. That's not so horr-"

"How? How did you make him dance?"

Dad's gaze hooked Al tight. He wanted to look away, but he couldn't. He opened his mouth to speak, tried to say the word, but nothing came out.

"Al, there's only one curse I know of that could take control of another person that way." Dad ran his fingers through his hair and took a breath. "Was it the Imperius Curse?"

In a strange way it was a relief. Al didn't answer; he didn't even nod. He just looked at his father and waited to see what would happen next.

Dad's face was pale and his voice was quiet. "You know that's an Unforgiveable, right?"

Al nodded.

"Where did you learn it?"

He stayed silent.

"Who taught you this curse? This isn't school curriculum, not any more."

Al clenched his jaw.

His father continued. "You can't go around using magic you don't understand. You could hurt someone. You could kill someone. You could hurt yourself."

"I know. It was a mistake. I'll never do it again, I swear."

"You need to tell me. Where did you learn how to do this?"

He would never tell. He knew how much trouble Mr Malfoy would be in and he couldn't betray him that way. But even as he tried to explain, tried to form words around what had happened, his throat closed up. He couldn't do it. He didn't have the ability to say anything about the subject at all. His hand went to his throat and he frowned.

"My god," said Dad. "He's used a Fidelius Charm, hasn't he?"

Al's eyes widened at the 'he' and he shook his head.

His dad slid off his chair and crouched down. He took Al by the shoulder. For a moment he looked down, then lifted his face to meet Al's eyes. "You are never going to Malfoy Manor again. Do you understand?"

"W- What? But, Dad, it wa-" His throat closed up again, and he knew that his inability to say anything about the subject at all was as bad as naming Mr Malfoy outright. "You can't do that!" he shouted, and his dad actually flinched.

As Dad got to his feet, his mouth was a grim line. He slid his hands beneath his glasses and held them over his eyes. "I'll talk to McGonagall. I'll figure something out."

As Al fought back tears, Professor Smith strode into the Staff Room. That was all Al needed. He got to his feet. Dad lowered his hands and looked at Smith. Smith stopped in his tracks and went pale.

"A word," said Dad.

Smith looked at Al. Al kept his face blank. Smith swallowed and looked back at Dad again.

Al ran out of the room and made for the entrance to the Astronomy Tower. He pounded up the stairs, ignoring the burn in his legs and his lungs. He burst out onto the tower. It was empty. Scorpius hadn't finished at the Owlery yet. Squeezing his eyes closed tight, Al inhaled. The air was growing sharp. It was already cold enough that they'd need warming charms. He stayed motionless, only breathing, and waited for his mind to clear.

Smith wasn't fired, but apparently he'd been reprimanded severely enough that he left Al alone from then onwards. He didn't try to bother Scorpius either. In fact, the two of them might as well have attended class wearing Invisibility Cloaks. Smith simply pretended they didn't exist.

Al was glad, of course, although the shame of having been rescued by his father took some of the shine off it - as did his father's ban on future visits to Malfoy Manor. Al didn't know whom he was angrier with about that - Dad, Mr Malfoy or himself.

As O.W.L.'s approached with the threat and thunder of a freight train, Al was able to push the idea of going months without seeing Scorpius to the back of his mind. Once the exams had passed, however, with more whimper than bang, Al was forced to face the fact that they'd be separated. He knew Dad wouldn't change his mind.

It leant a sort of tragic desperation which wasn't entirely unpleasant to the remainder of the time he spent with Scorpius that school year, but in the third week of June when they stepped off the Hogwarts Express and onto the platform at Kings Cross Station, reality set in. Al looked at Scorpius and realised he couldn't even kiss him goodbye. They stared at each other.

"I'll see you in September," said Al, his throat closing up.

"Yes," said Scorpius, looking dazed. "I'll owl you. I'll owl you every day."

He held his hand towards Al. Al took it and squeezed it, his eyes starting to burn. He could see Scorpius's parents watching them from several yards away. Mr Malfoy raised a hand in greeting. Al raised his own in return, and realised that he needed to go and join his own family before his dad got within fifty feet of Scorpius's father.

"Bye," he whispered to Scorpius. Scorpius gave him a radiant smile, then turned and ran into his father's waiting arms.

On the occasion of Al's dad's forty-second birthday it was a beautiful day blessed with endless sunshine but not too much heat. Dad beamed with happiness as he always did when surrounded by his extended family. Everyone was there. The Potters' garden was large enough to accommodate the entire clan of Potters and Weasleys plus friends, which added up to more people than Al cared to count. It was bloody crowded. And loud.

And he hadn't seen Scorpius for weeks, which left a permanent ache in the centre of his chest not to mention the chafing in other areas that resulted from thinking about how much he missed Scorpius perhaps a bit too often.

He sat on his own in the shade of an apple tree, arms wrapped around his bent knees, and watched James fetch his girlfriend another drink. Sylvia, a blond Slytherin who'd been in the year above James at Hogwarts, chatted avidly with Victoire and barely acknowledged James's offering. He didn't seem to mind, though, and plunked onto the grass to sit at her feet and gaze up at her worshipfully. She ruffled his hair and blew him a kiss before turning back to her conversation.

At the other side of the garden Rose argued with her mother while Uncle Ron glared daggers at the man Rose had brought as her date. The man was a lot older than Rose and European, which made all the adults at the party give him tight smiles and try to drag Rose away.

Al's dad seemed oblivious to any controversy. He stood laughing next to the drinks table they'd set up, his arm around Mum's shoulders. The shadows that had taken residence beneath his eyes over the past year had momentarily faded. Al watched him and his heart hurt. The only time his dad's smile had faltered that day was when he'd glanced over at Al and seen him sitting alone. Al had given him a smile and his dad had returned it, but there was pretence in Al's gesture and obvious concern in his father's.

Al had never wanted to make his dad worry. Life had a way of not going how you wanted it to, though. His O.W.L. results bore this out - He'd had an O in Herbology, an E in Potions, and As in Astronomy, Charms, and History of Magic. He'd had a P in Transfiguration, however, and his DADA grade - a D - put the final nail in the coffin of his ambitions towards becoming an Auror.

Not that he hadn't expected it. His exam had gone terribly. And Dad had said that it was all right. He'd held the parchment listing Al's grades and he didn't look disappointed at all, but said that Al would do a brilliant job doing whatever he chose to do. And that he was impressed by his grade in Potions, as he'd never really got the hang of them himself. There were always jobs in Magical Law Enforcement for talented potioneers. Then he'd looked at Al and his face had fallen. "But let's wait and see," he'd said. "You've still got two years of school. Things could change."

"Nothing's going to change, Dad." It wasn't his dad's fault. Al didn't know why he felt so angry.

As if he hadn't noticed Al's clenched fists and tight jaw, Dad had smiled and patted Al on the shoulder. "You'll find something else then. There's plenty of time."

Al had nodded then turned to go to his bedroom to write Scorpius an owl confessing the bad news.

Al stretched his legs out in front of him and leaned back against the apple tree. His dad had tried to make Al feel better about not being able to be an Auror, when all this time Al had been doing it for him, to make him happy. Al looked around at his family. There was James who wanted to be a curse breaker, and Lily who wanted to work for the _Prophet_ like Mum. Hugo wanted to play Quidditch, Teddy was already training to be an Auror, Victoire worked for Gringotts. Rose, according to Aunt Hermione as filtered through Lily, was all set to throw her life away by running off to France with some smooth talking ne're-do-well because he was filling her head with ideas about becoming a model. Even that was an ambition.

All Al wanted was Scorpius.

When Uncle Ron began speaking in a loud voice to Rose's companion while poking him repeatedly on the shoulder, everyone stopped what they were doing and turned to watch. Al took the distraction as an opportunity to sneak back into the house. He wrote Scorpius a quick owl, sent it off, and then got his broom.

The final remnants of daylight filtered through the trees, etching Scorpius's bare skin with dappled shadows. The thicket rested far enough away from the Manor that there was no danger they'd be disturbed. Warming and Cushioning Charms ensured that they were nestled comfortably on the leaves blanketing the forest floor. Al closed his eyes and trailed his fingers down Scorpius's spine.

They were at the stage of slow, wet kisses. The frantic need had abated, leaving Al calm enough to enjoy Scorpius's long limbs and lithe body intertwined with his own. He felt drunk on Scorpius's delicious skin and the smell of him - sex and sweat misted with the mossy musk of the forest. He nestled closer and Scorpius sighed and mouthed Al's neck and shoulder.

Scorpius's body was a miracle - the feather-light brush of his hair, the silk of his lips, the pulse of his heart against Al's palm. And the bits of him that drove Al to distraction even now when they were sleepy and sated. Just knowing that Scorpius had them sent Al slightly mad. He always wanted to touch them, would have been holding them even now if he hadn't worried that Scorpius would think it a bit odd.

He opened his eyes to find that the sun had set. He could barely make out Scorpius's dreamy smile.

How could he, how could anyone, ever want anything more than this?

Something large crunched through the undergrowth nearby.

"We should go home," said Scorpius. "It's getting cold."

As they got to their feet and began to pull on their clothes the light faded away to nothing.


	6. Year 6

Year 6

The sixth year Ravenclaws and Gryffindors sat scattered across the hill, fiddling with their Astronoculars and waiting for the moon to blot out the sun. It would only be a partial eclipse, but it was still a rare enough event to be exciting. Scorpius was beside himself. Al was interested as well, but watching Scorpius vibrate with anticipation was even more fun.

It was a crisp day near the end of October - only six days until the Halloween Feast. O.W.L.s were a thing of the past and N.E.W.T.s in the distant future. Al smiled and leaned his head against Scorpius's shoulder. Scorpius absentmindedly shrugged him off and continued his monologue, speaking so quickly Al wouldn't have been able to follow what he was saying even if he'd understood.

"The moon actually travels around the sun in an ellipse." Scorpius waved his fingers in the air in an elliptical motion. "The magnitude of which is the ratio of the apparent size of the Moon to the apparent size of the Sun.

"People have always been fascinated by eclipses and ascribed great power to them, despite the fact that they are a purely natural phenomena. In 585 BCE the Medians and Lydians put down their weapons and declared peace when a partial eclipse interrupted their battle."

Al yawned and fell back on his elbows. "Should I be taking notes on this."

"Well, only if you want to. I thought you might find it interesting.

Peering from beneath half-closed lids, Al watched Scorpius's animated features as he continued to speak. One moment Scorpius pointed to toward the sky, the next he turned a dial on his Astronoculars and met Al's eyes. Then he was off again, saying something about 'chromospheres' and 'obscuration', his attention millions of miles away. Al grinned and wished he could push him down on the grass, roll on top of him and shut him up.

Professor Sinistra stood and clapped her hands. "It's almost eleven, so let's all stand and get ready. Yes, you too, Mr Finnegan and Miss Hunter. Thank you."

Scorpius had instantly leapt up and Al clambered to his feet as well. Scorpius glanced at him, beaming and bouncing on his toes, then held his Astronoculars to his eyes. After quickly checking that his own pair was set to 'solar', Al did the same and angled his face upwards.

At first he only saw vague, dark forms, but after fiddling with the dials the bright yellow shape of the sun materialised through the lenses. It was interesting to be able to stare at it head on through the protective charms of the Astronoculars. It looked a bit like a pale, glowing egg yolk.

"Here we go," said Sinistra, and then an encroaching semi-circle of black began to eat away at the bright disk of the sun. The image was stark and vivid against the darkening sky. Al held his Astronoculars tightly, riveted by what he saw. In his mind he could hear the roar and crackle and feel the devouring heat.

Not one student spoke a word. The eclipse progressed, the crescent of viewable sun shrinking and then growing again. Finally, it was over. Al lowered his Astronoculars and blinked. Murmurs fluttered through the crowd.

"That was wicked," said Beagán.

"Seriously," replied Kristoph.

Al glanced at Scorpius, whose lips were parted, his face gilded with awe. He turned to Al and something about his expression made Al's breath catch.

"Did you see?" asked Scorpius.

"Yeah, 'course I did. It was beautiful."

"But did you _see_, Al?"

"I… don't know what you mean."

Scorpius looked bewildered for a moment, then his face cleared. "Maybe-"

"I hope you all enjoyed that," interrupted Sinistra. "I'll expect ten inches describing the event and charting the locations of future eclipses through the next five years by Friday."

They all began trudging down the hill to head back to the Castle. Scorpius kept glancing back up at the sun, looking directly at it until Al gave him a gentle shove and told him to knock it off or he'd go blind.

The memory of the eclipse was fresh enough in Al's mind to make it hard for him to concentrate during Herbology that afternoon. Scorpius seemed distracted too; he kept glancing toward the sky. When Professor Longbottom asked him to secure a sample of bubotuber pus Scorpius reached for the plant without putting on his dragon-hide gloves first. Several of the students working nearby shouted a warning and Al grabbed his wrist. Scorpius blinked and then turned red.

Al milked the plant and delivered the sample while Scorpius went back to dreaming. As Professor Longbottom lectured, Al followed Scorpius's gaze through the glass walls. Scorpius's eyes had focussed - they followed the progress of Professor Flitwick and Headmistress McGonagall as they approached the greenhouse.

McGonagall entered and walked toward Longbottom without greeting the students. Flitwick remained in the doorway. Al had never seen him look grim before. Al looked at McGonagall as she whispered something to Longbottom. Longbottom squeezed his eyes shut. Al's stomach turned over.

McGonagall walked stiffly out of the greenhouse, her lips pressed together. Longbottom removed his gloves and set them down on his desk. "Rose," he said, "could you look after the class for a moment please?"

"Of course, Professor." Rose sat up straighter on her stool and glared around at the other students, many of whom were now whispering to each other and glancgin warily towards McGonagall and Flitwick.

Looking a bit sick, Longbottom walked toward Al and Scorpius's table.

No, thought Al, not knowing what he was protesting against. Please. Please, no.

"Scorpius, can you come with me?" Neville - Al couldn't think of him as Longbottom when his face looked like that - placed a gentle hand on Scorpius's shoulder. Scorpius stared at him. "Come on now," continued Neville. "We need to go outside."

Scorpius slid off his stool and stood, his mouth slightly open. Neville kept his hand on Scorpius's shoulder as they walked out of the greenhouse together.

Al got to his feet, his mind cold and blank.

"You have to stay seated," said Rose.

Ignoring her, Al began walking toward the door.

He was almost there when he heard Scorpius scream.

Al ran out onto the grounds.

Professor Flitwick wrung his hands while Neville wrestled with the thrashing mass of limbs and twisted robes that was Scorpius. Scorpius's back arched and once again he screamed, his voice raw and infantile.

"What happened?" Al shouted, but the professors were too busy with Scorpius to answer him.

"Get Hagrid." Neville lifted an arm to protect his face as Scorpius hit out at him. "Get him a potion. Where's his mother?"

"St Mungo's." McGonagall's face was grey, her eyes wet.

"I. Want. _Father_." Scorpius's wail echoed through the grounds. The students who had crowded around the door of the greenhouse watched in silent horror. With a sob, Al pushed himself off the wall and ran toward Scorpius. He felt McGonagall's hand grab at his shoulder, but he shrugged it off and kept going.

"Al, don't" said Neville, pleading. He had Scorpius's back to his chest, either arm wrapped around his shoulders. Scorpius kicked at the ground, making Neville stagger to keep hold of him.

"What happened?" Al repeated. Neville just shook his head.

"Scorpius!" Al tried to get to him, but he wouldn't stop kicking.

Flitwick, suddenly right next to Al, waved his wand and cast a spell. With a final shudder, Scorpius went still. "Oh dear," said Flitwick. "Oh my, oh dear."

Neville gently lowered Scorpius to the grass and then wiped his own brow and eyes with his sleeve.

Al turned desperately to McGonagall. "Please! Tell me what happened."

The Headmistress closed her eyes and opened them again. "There has been another attack at the Ministry," she said, and once again Al thought, no no no. "There were many casualties and I'm afraid Scorpius's father was among them."

The confirmation of his worst fear sent Al numb. He looked at Scorpius, laid out motionless on the ground. The sun hit Scorpius's wet face, making it glisten. As Al watched the sky shifted, changing the texture of the light and sapping Scorpius's skin of any colour. A rustle of grey and brown leaves caught in a passing gust of wind spiralled over his limp body and landed on his tangled robes.

McGonagall cleared her throat and Al looked up. The Headmistress turned to Neville and Flitwick. She instructed them to take Scorpius off-grounds so he could be Apparated to St Mungo's and handed over to his mother.

"I'll go with him," said Al. "He'll need me."

"One moment, Albus," replied McGonagall, putting a hand on Al's shoulder, but still looking at Neville.

Opening and closing his fists, Al watched as Neville lifted Scorpius. Scorpius's arms and legs hung limp; his head lolled back over Neville's arm. Neville walked slowly towards the main gates, carrying Scorpius away and out of sight.

Al didn't feel real. He didn't feel as if he existed at all. A flickering memory of Mr Malfoy's face swept through his mind and he almost gagged. He took a stumbling step after Neville, but McGonagall said, "Wait, Potter." She pressed a hand to her forehead and sighed. "You need to come with me." She turned to Flitwick. "Filius, can you look after Neville's class?"

"Of course."

The students who'd been crowding the doorway and pressing against the glass walls scurried back to their stools.

Al began to follow Professor McGonagall towards the Castle, assuming there were arrangements to be made before he could go after Scorpius. She stopped and put a hand on his shoulder, gentle but firm.

"I'm sorry to say that your father was involved in the incident as well, Albus."

All the air left his lungs. His legs turned to jelly and icy wires shot through his veins.

"_He's alive_," continued the headmistress in a louder voice, "but injured." She gestured towards the Castle. "Your brother and sister are waiting for you in the-."

Al tore himself from her grasp and ran.

As he burst into the Entrance Hall, both James and Lily turned their heads, faces identically white. Al came to a halt. They looked at each other, acknowledged each other, but no one said a thing. James took a heaving breath, then led Lily over to Al. He wrapped his arms around both their shoulders. Lily leaned into him. Al took Lily's hand. For what seemed like an eternity they waited in silence.

Finally Neville arrived, rumpled and exhausted, and escorted them to St Mungo's to see their father.

Candles enclosed in floating crystal bubbles lit the corridor on the fourth floor of St Mungo's. The oak-panelled walls and dour portraits made Al think of Grimmauld Place, which he hated, and did nothing to calm him down. The three of them hurried along towards their father's room until they turned a corner and James said, "This is it. The Welcome Witch said room 423." James and Lily immediately entered, but Al stopped short.

Scorpius and his mother sat on spindly chairs just outside a room with a closed door. Mrs Malfoy's hair was tied back in a messy bun and her eyes were red and shadowed. Scorpius stared blankly forward, the Baoding Spheres clutched tight in his unmoving fist. His face was as still and pale as a wax doll's, and his eyes were empty.

'A casualty', McGonagall had said. That could mean a few different things, although from the Malfoys' expressions… Al looked at Mrs Malfoy. He couldn't speak. He couldn't ask. She gave him a tight, weary smile. He turned to Scorpius and knelt in front of him, cupping his face. Scorpius didn't even blink.

"He's had several different potions, dear," said Mrs Malfoy.

James poked his head out of Dad's room and said, "_Al_."

"It's all right." Mrs Malfoy patted Al on his shoulder. "Go to your father. You can't do anything for Scorpius right now."

"I'm so sorry," Al whispered, and she nodded.

He got to his feet and followed James through the door into his dad's room.

Dad was pushing away a Healer as she tried to get him to lie back down in his bed and arguing with Mum. When Al walked in, he looked up and said, "Al." Al ran to him and paused, noticing the bandages wrapped around his left arm and leg. Dad pulled him down hugged him hard enough to take his breath away.

"Are you okay?" asked Al through a tight throat.

"I'm fine. Just a few burns." Dad pressed his face against the top of Al's head. Al sunk into his embrace in the same way he used to when he'd been a child. His dad smelled of astringent potions, smoke and the familiar warmth beneath it.

"Dad," asked Al, "is Mr Malfoy...?"

Dad's arm tightened around him. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "He was killed."

_Scorpius_, thought Al and then shuddered as he let go of his final sliver of hope. Something black and immutable clouded his mind.

He let his dad hold him a few moments longer, then pulled away.

Dad looked into Al's face. "There was nothing I could do. The Curse went off and it was all over. I'm so, so sorry, Al. I know Draco and I had our differences…" A tremor went through Dad's body. "But you respected him. I'm sorry."

Al didn't know how to respond. He tried to smile but his mouth wouldn't obey. He tried to speak, but had no words. His dad lay in a hospital bed, badly injured and wanting Al's forgiveness. "Dad," Al finally forced out. He took his father's hand and shook his head. His father's fingers closed around his.

Warm arms slid around Al's chest and his mother whispered, "Shhh," in his ear. She kissed him on the cheek and then knelt down and replaced Al in his father's arms.

Al stepped away. James stood against the wall, his face creased in fury. Lily sat in a chair. She didn't look away from their dad for a second. Al moved next to her and took her hand. She squeezed it hard enough to make his bones ache.

Al watched his parents talk. His mother brushed Dad's fringe out of his eyes.

It could be so different. A lot of people had been killed. They could be at the morgue instead of in a hospital room.

"Mr Potter needs to rest now," said the Healer. She held the door to dad's room open and wore an expression that brooked no argument.

Mum kissed dad and stroked his face. He squeezed her and then lay back down in his bed, looking pale and exhausted. "Floo Taylor. He should be in the Auror office. Tell him to talk to Betty about the Ventricle case and tell him-" He glared at the Healer through narrowed eyes. "I'll be back later in the week."

The Healer sighed and said, "I could have you sedated, you know."

After a while the Healer made it clear that it was time for Dad to get some rest. Al and his family said their goodbyes and moved out into the corridor.

Scorpius and his mother were gone.

Al had only spoken with Mr Malfoy a handful of times, but he could hear his low, cultured voice in his head almost as if he were there with them. It seemed insane that he was dead, just erased, and at the whim of complete strangers.

Instead of sending them back to school, Mum took them home. She spent some time on the Floo and then told them that they'd stay for a week or so. They settled into the sitting room and Al wondered what he was meant to be doing. Uncle Ron and Aunt Hermione came over. Mum started crying and Hermione took her into the kitchen. Ron tried to cheer them up and James tried to make him think he'd succeeded. Al sat on the sofa, leaned back and let himself go numb.

Home didn't feel like home that week. It was too quiet. Grandma Molly stayed in their spare room and cooked for them and held Mum when she cried. They visited Dad every day and he smiled and made jokes and looked more worn out than Al had ever seen him.

After a week Dad came home. He used a cane to walk, but said that he wouldn't need it after a month or so. He'd been incredibly lucky. He and mum went to a lot of funerals. When it was time for Mr Malfoy's Al couldn't seem to find the words to ask if he could go too, so he stayed behind.

He owled Scorpius, but received no response. At night he lay awake, remembering the way Mr Malfoy's had face looked when he gazed at his son, and Scorpius's flat eyes and washed-out face as he sat in the corridor at St Mungo's.

Life went on. Dad went back the Auror Office and Al, James and Lily went back to school.

Al lay in his bed in Gryffindor Tower, ink and parchment balanced on his pillow, and wrote another stumbling owl to Scorpius. He crossed out one line, started another, and then crumbled the whole thing up and tossed it to the floor. He didn't know what to say. Everything he tried sounded trite and stilted. He tried to imagine what Scorpius might be feeling and the black cloud clenched around his mind until he gave up.

No owls arrived from Scorpius.

Al sat through Charms, staring at the dust collecting in the corners of the ceiling. Flitwick's words drifted over his head, bland and meaningless. The professor gave him sympathetic glances and left him alone. Pretty much all the professors treated him that way. He didn't have DADA any more, of course, and if Al crossed paths with Smith in the corridors, the professor simply ignored him.

Every morning at breakfast Al examined the Ravenclaw table with dimming hope. Scorpius wasn't there. He wasn't waiting for Al after class, he wasn't dragging him off to the library, he wasn't swooping through the air while Al lounged on the grass and watched. Once classes had finished for the day, Al still climbed the Astronomy Tower. He stood alone, shivering, and looked out over the grounds of Hogwarts.

By the end of November Lily and Olivia had become stuck to his sides. They were always there, walking with him to class, sitting on the arms of his chair in the common room. Olivia gave him sweets from the care packages her mother owled her, while Lily teased him, pulled faced, and did everything she could to make him smile.

On the January morning when they'd returned to school after the winter break he glanced at the Ravenclaw table as usual, noted Scorpius's continued absence, and was unable to eat his breakfast. Maybe it was over. Maybe Scorpius would never come back. He got up, hands shoved in his pockets, and wandered out into the Entrance Hall.

There, framed by the light flooding in through the open front doors, stood Scorpius.

Al froze, taken completely by surprise; for a moment he wondered if he was seeing things. Then he decided it didn't matter and ran. Scorpius stepped forward. Al went to grab him, but a flutter of movement alerted him to Professor Flitwick hovering to the side. He settled for putting a hand on Scorpius's shoulder and simply staring at him. Scorpius smiled and said, "Al. I just got back."

"Mr Potter," said Flitwick. "Splendid. Just whom I was hoping to see. Would you escort Mr Malfoy into the Great Hall? I believe he still has time for breakfast."

"I'm not really hungry," said Scorpius, still smiling.

Scorpius's expression made Al feel shy. He'd imagined this scene - what it would be like if Scorpius came back. It had always been bigger and brighter in his mind. Yet here Scorpius was, solid, real and _there_. Al took his hand. Scorpius's fingers curled warm around it.

Flitwick looked away and cleared his throat. "You'll find your luggage in your room as usual, Mr Malfoy." He turned to Al. "You'll help him readjust, yes? Get him settled back in?"

Al nodded.

"I'll see you later in the week in Charms class." Flitwick nodded to Scorpius, then scuttled away and disappeared into the Great Hall.

"I read all your owls." Scorpius's gaze travelled over Al's face. His fingers tightened their grip. "I'm sorry I didn't write back."

"Hush," said Al, and kissed him. Scorpius made a soft sound and kissed him back, his hands sliding around Al's waist. Cool, sweet relief flooded Al's chest. The taste of Scorpius, his smell, the way his body bent against him - all so familiar and necessary. "Ah," he sighed. "I'm so glad you're here."

He pulled away a bit, looked into Scorpius's eyes and blinked as threads of panic filtered through his joy. Scorpius's eyes were the same crystal-grey they'd always been. Scorpius clung to him and smiled, but it was the dreamy smile he wore when his mind was elsewhere. Al cupped his jaw and ran his thumb along his cheek. "Scorpius?"

"Al. It's so good to see you again."

"Are you all right?"

Scorpius looked away. "It was time to come back. I'd have missed too much schoolwork if I'd stayed at home any longer. And letting myself go to pieces would just be another victory for the terrorists." His expression didn't change as he spoke and Al wondered if he was merely parroting something his mother had told him.

Al leaned in to kiss him again, but students began wandering into the Entrance Hall, so he stopped. A few of the Ravenclaws approached and greeted Scorpius. Even Rose welcomed him back and told him she was terribly sorry about his father. Al watched as Scorpius kept smiling and looked at their temples rather than their eyes as they spoke.

"Professor Flitwick said I could take a day to settle back in." At least Scorpius looked Al in the eye. "So I don't have to go to classes."

Al decided that he didn't have to go to classes either. He Summoned his coat, hat and gloves, and he and Scorpius snuck out onto the grounds. They crept into the Forbidden Forest. It was bitterly cold. Scorpius's Warming Charms could only do so much, so none of their clothing came off. Al didn't get the sense that Scorpius was particularly disappointed. He told himself he should understand. They kissed with hot mouths and ice-cold noses. Al stroked Scorpius's face, his arms, the back of his neck. Finally, Scorpius curled up on a bed of leaves and rested his head in Al's lap.

"I missed you so much," said Al, staring down at him.

Scorpius, his fair hair fanning across the black wool of Al's coat, just looked back up at him and smiled.

Things went back to the way they had been - only they were completely different.

They were in the library and Al couldn't stop fidgeting. "Do you want to try the Trophy Room? I don't think Filch cleans it on Tuesdays."

Scorpius had been staring at the same page of his book for over five minutes. He looked up at Al. "All right."

"Are you sure?" Al had already stood and was shoving his books back into his rucksack.

Scorpius laughed softly. "Yes, of course."

Al tried not to run as they climbed the stairs. Scorpius kept his head down. Once they arrived at the Trophy Room they made their way to the alcove near the back. Al pressed Scorpius against the wall and kissed him once, then fell to his knees. He fumbled as he pulled open Scorpius's flies. Maybe Scorpius had forgotten what it had been like. Al was determined to make him remember.

It took a long time. Scorpius sighed and held Al's head in a gentle grasp, but by the time he whimpered and tightened his fingers, Al's jaw and tongue were aching. Scorpius slid to the floor, reached for Al's trousers and slid his hand inside. It only took Al seconds before he was finished.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Al asked once he could breathe again, hot and sated, but not satisfied.

After a while Scorpius answered. "I don't know."

Al crawled onto Scorpius and looked down at him. "I want..." He sighed. "I want you back. You're here, but you're not back."

Scorpius's expression didn't change. "I'm sorry." He stroked Al's cheek. "I should get back to my dorm. I need to go to sleep."

"It's not even nine yet."

"I'm sorry," said Scorpius again and turned his face away.

As Al watched, Scorpius's eyes glazed over.

They put their clothes on and headed out. When it was time to part ways, Scorpius looked at Al and there was a sliver of his old self in the way he ran his teeth over his bottom lip. "I'll try. For you. I'll do my best."

Al didn't know what that meant, but it gave him a small measure of hope.

The next morning was Saturday. Al climbed out of the Portrait Hole to find Scorpius waiting for him. He took Al's hand and led him down the corridor. His fingers felt damp in Al's.

"Where are we going?"

"When I was away, my mother told me about a room. She went there with Father a few times when he went back to school after the war. We won't be interrupted."

Eventually they reached a truly bizarre tapestry involving tutu-clad trolls beating a wizard over the head with their clubs. Al giggled and nudged Scropius's shoulder, but Scorpius was busy staring at the blank wall opposite.

Looking at bit nervous, Scorpius walked over to the wall and laid his palms flat against it. He closed his eyes, then turned and walked to the left. He spun and walked back the way he came, and then repeated the process in the other direction.

Al marvelled as a door materialised in the centre of the previously blank wall. Scorpius took hold of the knob, turned back to Al, and said, "Come on, then." Once the door was open, they both went inside and closed it behind them.

"Wow," said Al. "Is this someone's bedroom?"

"It's mine," said Scorpius, looking bemused. "It looks exactly like my room at home. Same carpet, same paintings, even the same bookshelves."

Al realised that he'd never seen Scorpius's bedroom. They'd spent time in Mr Malfoy's study or in the garden or in the guest room where Al slept, but never in Scorpius's room. He took in the heavy, carved bedposts and canopy of Scorpius's bed. The pale-blue quilt looked soft and silky. "Your room is enormous. Mine's only half its size."

Scorpius shrugged. Then he looked at Al and took a deep breath. As Al watched, Scorpius unbuttoned his shirt and let it slip off his shoulders. Al's breathing immediately became shallow. His cheeks turning pink, Scorpius smiled at Al - a genuine smile, if somewhat shy. Then he reached into his pocket, pulled something out, and placed it on the pillow of the bed. Without looking at Al, he pulled down his pants and trousers and stepped out of them.

Al's heart raced. He's seen Scorpius naked before, of course, but they were alone in a room with a huge bed and Scorpius clearly had something planned. He kicked off his trainers and pulled off his own clothes. He felt slightly embarrassed by the fact that he was very obviously ready while Scorpius wasn't quite there yet.

Scorpius pushed himself back and up to sit on the bed. Al watched his muscles bend and contract, his pale, smooth skin shining in the lamplight.

He licked his lips. "You're… so…" His chest felt tight, but the rest of him was hot with longing.

"Come on, then." Scorpius patted the bed and looked at Al through his eyelashes. Al approached sat down next to him. His shoulder and hip tingled where they almost touched.

He let Scorpius lead the way, didn't press anything, but just responded. It wasn't like before. Scorpius was measured and gentle. Al had to try very hard to hold himself in check.

After a while, Scorpius pushed Al down until Al was lying on his back. His eyes wide and his cheeks red, Scorpius said, "I read some books. I know what to do."

Al swallowed. "You mean, you want to..?"

Scorpius nodded. The thing he'd placed on the pillow turned out to be a small jar. Al watched, his breath hitching in his throat, as Scorpius used the salve inside of it. A part of him said that it was wrong, that Scorpius wasn't doing this for the right reasons. A larger part of himself - the part humming with desire and excitement - overruled the small voice of discomfort.

Scorpius slid a leg over Al's hips until he was straddling him. Al put his hands on Scorpius's hips. Each bit of his skin that touched Scorpius tingled with sweet pleasure, and words, ridiculous girl words, words he'd read in poems, flew to his lips. He trembled and stared up at Scorpius.

"I can't believe you're letting me do this," was all Al said.

"Why? Should I not?"

"Oh... Only if you want to."

Scorpius fingers tightened on Al's shoulder. "I want to. I want to see what it feels like."

Al arched his neck and moved. Scorpius took a sharp breath and pushed down.

"Promise me you'll say if it hurts too much."

"It hurts. It does, but don't stop."

Al was glad, because he wasn't sure he could.

Tension and pleasure twisted together, electric vines unfurling. Scorpius moved gently above him. His face was damp with perspiration, his lips impossibly red and his eyes vivid and focussed.

"You all right?" Al gasped.

Scorpius grabbed the back of his head and pulled him up for a kiss. Al moaned into it, losing all control, and with one more push, he came, shaking, his mind flooded with light.

Afterwards, Al felt grateful for Scorpius's silence. They lay next to each other, Al flushed and unable to stop grinning, Scorpius… Scorpius reverted to his usual expression. When Al's arm started to cramp, however, and he tried to untwine their fingers, Scorpius tightened his grip. Al hummed and shifted closer.

He looked at Scorpius. Scorpius blinked but didn't avert his eyes. He gazed calmly back at Al, breathing steadily. Up close, the colours of Scorpius's irises were uneven - rings of backlit charcoal splintered smoke. Al took in the curves and planes of his face, wanting to know each pore and strand of eyebrow as well as he knew his own. If he could memorise that moment, then he'd never lose it.

Scorpius's eyelashes fluttered. He rolled onto his back, letting their fingers slide apart. Al closed his eyes.

When he woke up, Scorpius was dressed and sitting on the bed cross-legged. His face had been completely expressionless, but when he saw Al was awake, he smiled.

"Are you all right?" asked Al, feeling like he'd been asking too often, but needing to be sure.

"I'm fine."

"I'm sorry I fell asleep. You didn't get to-"

"I didn't mind." His eyes glazed over. "I don't really mind anything."

Al pushed himself up and went to pull Scorpius to him, but Scorpius moved away and slid off the bed.

"I've got to go. I'll see you later."

"Scorpius."

"It's fine. I'm fine."

Al got off the bed and got dressed. Scorpius waited for him by the door. Just before they exited, Scorpius leaned in and kissed Al on the lips, quick as the brush of a butterfly's wing. "I miss you," he whispered. "But it's going to be fine."

Scorpius wasn't at dinner that night.

Al slouched over to the Ravenclaw table. "D' ya know where Scorpius is, Rose?"

Rose narrowed her eyes at him. "No idea. He's probably counting claws in the Owlery and multiplying them by the number of stones in the North Battlements or something equally useless. It's not my habit to keep tabs on him."

Sighing, Al ran his fingers through his hair. Then he headed off to the Astronomy Tower.

By the time he reached the top, both his lungs and leg muscles were burning. He pulled open the door and saw Scorpius caught in a whirlwind. White blond hair whipped about in the airstream, obscuring his face, and his school robes fluttered madly. His left arm pointed up, his wand extended skyward. Above him, five vials of various shapes floated in a spiral.

Al paused in the doorway to catch his breath.

Scorpius must have sensed his presence, because he looked over at Al and smiled. Despite the acid in his stomach, Al smiled back. The potion bottles danced in the breeze, a misshapen halo above Scorpius's head.

Al crept forward, remembering the caution with which they'd moved when approaching young unicorns in Care of Magical Creatures class. "All right, Scorpius?"

"Watch," he responded.

With a flick of his wand, Scorpius sent the potions flying away over the ramparts. They both ran to the edge and watched their progress. The bottles zoomed toward the Forbidden Forest, quickly fading to indecipherable specks.

"Some poor centaur will have those and be poisoned," said Al.

"No he won't. He'll just feel numb for a while. At least that's how they made me feel." Scorpius remained still, his pale fingers resting on top of the ramparts as he gazed into the distance.

The wind whistled through the top of the tower. Al moved closer to Scorpius. His fringe blew into his eyes, so he pushed it out, only to have it blown it right back in his face.

"What's going to happen now?"

Scorpius turned to look at him and the new angle flooded his face with sunlight.

"Kiss me," he said.

Al did. He pulled him close. The warmth of their bodies pressed together shut out the cold of the wind. After a moment, Scorpius moved away. His lips brushed against Al's cheek as he laughed. "I'm done here. Let's go back down. Maybe there will be something left of dinner."

For a while, things seemed to get better. Each day that passed brought a little more of Scorpius with it. His eyes became bright again. He started lecturing Al about schoolwork. And he stopped smiling.

One day after they'd finished classes the Baoding Spheres reappeared. Al decided that was a good thing.

They didn't immediately kiss or take their clothes off upon entering the special room. Instead they spread their schoolbooks and parchments over the increasingly ink-stained quilt. Scorpius didn't want to go to the library any more. He said that people stared at him.

"I know that O.W.L.s are over, but that doesn't mean you can give up studying, Al. N.E.W.T.s seem a long way off now, but they'll come soon enough."

"Thanks, Mum." Al picked up _Advanced Potion-Making_ and leaned back against a pillow. He had fifteen inches to write on Everlasting Elixirs.

They hadn't repeated their first experience in the special room yet. Scorpius didn't offer and Al couldn't bring himself to ask, although he thought about it a bit more than was probably healthy. It made Al worry that Scorpius hadn't liked it or had actually hated it. Maybe they'd never do it again. He glanced at Scorpius, who lay on his stomach, one finger trailing down the middle of his Transfiguration essay as he proofread it. Scorpius's feet swayed in the air and he worried his lower lip with this teeth.

After a moment, Scorpius smiled but didn't look away from his essay. "Get back to your textbook. There'll be time later."

Al tried to do as he was told, but the words seemed to dance and evaporate. It was useless. He threw his book aside.

With a laugh, Scorpius rolled up his essay and slid it into his school bag. He lowered the bag to the floor, then flipped over onto his back. "Come on then. I can see you won't get any work done if I make you wait."

"You're fantastic," said Al and crawled across the bed and up Scorpius's body until he was above him, his weight supported on his arms.

Scorpius gave him a lightning-quick smile. "You… You can do it to me again if you like."

"Mmph." Al shuddered. "Yes, please. You have no idea-"

Scorpius leaned up and kissed him. They took off their clothes. Scorpius had brought the jar of salve and this time he showed Al how to use it to get him ready.

When Al pushed into Scorpius for the second time, the overwhelming sensation took his breath away; he closed his eyes, tingling everywhere, in his face and even his toes and fingers. "Mmm. Scorpius." He forced his eyes open. Scorpius stared up at him, his face flushed. "You all right?"

Scorpius nodded. Al moved slowly, trying to keep control. It was going to be over too quickly and this time he needed to know that Scorpius liked it, that he wasn't doing it just to make Al happy.

"Please, Scor- Ahh. Please. Come for me. I need you to." He slid his hand down between them and then grinned when Scorpius gasped and arched at his touch. "Please," Al continued, then bent and kissed Scorpius's neck. "Come on. I'm close."

"Yes, okay," said Scorpius, his voice a whisper.

Al moved his hand faster. Scorpius hummed and closed his eyes.

"Is that right, is it good?" Al was on the edge. He tried to slow down the movement of his hips, but they wouldn't let him.

Scorpius nodded.

"Please," said Al, his voice squeaking, and then Scorpius's fingers tightened sharply on his back. Al felt it - Scorpius's clenched around him - and the surprise and pleasure brought him over the edge as well. He cried out. It felt so good, so amazingly good, like nothing else in the world.

Still gasping from the aftershocks, Al kissed Scorpius again and again on his neck shoulder and collarbone. He buried his face against Scorpius's damp skin, thinking, thank you, thank you, thank you.

Once his breathing had calmed and his pulse had slowed, he pushed himself up on his arms and saw that Scorpius' face was clenched tight, his eyes squeezed shut and his teeth bared. "What…?" Al's stomach clenched. "Did I hurt you?" He pulled gently away and rolled to the side.

Scorpius shook his head, not speaking, and a hot, sickening burn spread through Al's chest as he watched fat tears leak from the corners of Scorpius's eyes. "I'm sorry," Al whispered.

Scorpius turned away and curled up on his side. Al stared at his pale back and the ridge of his spine. Scorpius's hair stuck damp to his neck. His shoulders started to shake.

Al stayed still, frozen and bewildered.

"I miss him so much," Scorpius gasped. "I want him. All the time. I can't… I can't… I can't breathe. I don't know what to do."

Al took a deep breath.

He placed a hand on Scorpius's shoulder and when Scorpius didn't shrug it off or move away, he slid his arm around Scorpius's chest from behind. After a moment, Scorpius wriggled around and nuzzled tightly against Al's body. Al held him and wished he knew what to say. Were there words that could make this better? Was there anything that could help? Scorpius's sobs grew harder until Al worried that they would choke him.

"I want him," Scorpius said again, his voice strangled. "Nothing works any more. I can't read, I can't think. And I don't understand. I don't know why this had to happen."

Al ran his fingers through Scorpius's hair. "I don't know either. They're evil people. They're the ones who should have died, not your father."

"Oh," Scorpius twisted in Al's arms. "Oh, Al. If I'd worked faster, I could have stopped them."

Al had no idea what Scorpius meant. "It wasn't your fault. You couldn't have done anything. No one could have."

Scorpius continued to cry for a long time. Al stroked him and kissed him. Finally Scorpius's shaking stopped and he lay still. Al thought he might have fallen asleep, but then he sat up and rubbed at his face.

"I've got no work done," said Scorpius.

Al looked at his mussed hair and blotchy face. "I'm sure your professors will understand."

"I'm not sure I should be spending my time on schoolwork any more."

Al lifted his head off the bed. "What do you mean?"

"I should go back home," Scorpius whispered.

Al hadn't thought he could feel any worse.

He knew it wouldn't be right to beg Scorpius not to leave him again, so he didn't. When Scorpius looked at his face, though, his eyes widened and he stuttered, "I- I didn't mean- Al, I'm sorry."

"Stop apologising to me," said Al.

Scorpius turned away and his eyes creased, but he didn't cry. He slipped off the bed and started pulling on his clothes.

It was like trying to cup a handful of dry sand in his fingers. Scorpius was slipping away and Al couldn't think of how to keep hold of him.

"Tell me how to help you," he blurted out.

Scorpius stopped for a moment, his trousers part way on, then he pulled them up and fastened them. "I thought… I thought it would be better if I could…" Scorpius's shoulders sagged. "It's this or it's the potions." He turned to Al, eyes wide and earnest. "Which do you want?"

"I just want _you_." He knew he was losing control and he knew he was being unfair, but he'd had to say something, and at least that was the truth.

Scorpius stared at him. Al sat up. Scorpius's mouth opened and closed again.

"I-" Al began, but Scorpius moved towards him and grabbed his head. He kissed him, mouth closed, but pressing their lips together hard. His fingers trembled where they held Al's face.

Al grabbed fistfuls of Scorpius's still unbuttoned shirt. He held on, as tight as he could, until his fingers started to go numb.

The front page of the _Prophet_ displayed five photographs - three men and two women: the remaining members of Brocken Specter. They'd finally been captured and were in Azkaban awaiting trial.

James whooped and thrust his fist in the air. "I knew Dad would do it!"

Al snatched up the paper and, ignoring James's protests, carried it over the Ravenclaw table.

"Look, Scorpius. They've got them. They've got them all." He set the paper on the table and Scorpius looked down at it. Several other Ravenclaws got up and moved behind them to peer over their shoulders. Scorpius didn't say anything.

"They'll all go to prison for the rest of their lives," said Al. "There's no question."

"I supposed they will," said Scorpius.

Al squashed down the spark of anger he felt at Scorpius's lack of reaction. "Aren't you glad?"

"I'm glad they found them," said Scorpius. "Now they won't be able to do it again." He cleared his throat. "But look at this." Scorpius pointed to another, smaller article at the bottom of the page. The headline read _Burnridge Poisoner still on the loose_.

"But…" Al threaded his fingers into his hair. "Scorpius. They caught the people who killed your father."

Scorpius winced. One of the Ravenclaw girls gave Al a filthy look.

"I know they did," said Scorpius. "But that doesn't mean anything. They were sick. And," he pointed back to the headline about the poisoner, "he's sick. And…" He opened the paper and scanned it before pointing to another article about a robbery in Hogsmeade. "They're sick." He pointed to a photo of a man at the top of the page. Al didn't read the caption. He just gaped at Scorpius. "He's sick too. All these people." Scorpius waved his hand over the paper, then turned to look up at Al. "Don't you see? It's not going to stop. Not until I… Not until someone _makes_ it stop."

"You can't make people stop doing bad things," said Rose.

Scorpius crossed his arms in front of his chest and scowled.

It was time to go to class. Al went off to History of Magic and Scorpius went to Arithmancy. Al awoke at the end of class to find Kristoph shaking his shoulder and rolling his eyes at him. He descended the stairs slowly, thinking about what Scorpius had said. Rose was right, of course. There were too many bad people in the world. Not even Al's dad could catch all of them.

He went down the marble staircase into the Entrance Hall, and saw Scorpius in the middle of a group of students. Scorpius's nose, mouth and chin were red with blood.

"Take it back," said a dark-haired boy Al recognised as a Slytherin called Jason. "Take it back, you little freak, or I'll break your jaw as well."

"I won't take it back, because it's _true_." Bloody spittle flew from Scorpius's lips as he spoke.

Al nearly tripped as he flew down the stairs. He ran towards the group and pushed his way to Scorpius.

He put himself between Scorpius and the other boys and shouted, "Leave him alone!"

Jason sneered. "I know he's your _boyfriend_, Potter, but piss off. This isn't to do with you."

"If you touch him again, I'll break your whole face."

Jason snorted and took a step towards Al. "Go on and try."

Al drew his arm back, but Scorpius grabbed it and held it still. "Don't Al. He can't help it. His blood is contaminated."

"My blood is purer than yours, Malfoy! My family goes back to Merlin!"

"I didn't say your blood was _impure_." Scorpius rolled his eyes. "I said it was tainted."

Al looked at Scorpius. The vivid red of the blood made the rest of his skin look even paler.

"He was pushing around one of the first years," said Scorpius. "She was crying."

"So you told him he had dirty blood?"

"Well, he do-"

Scorpius staggered backwards as Jason hit him again. Al threw himself shoulder first at Jason's chest and they both crashed to the floor. There was a flurry of fists and knees. A blast of pain exploded through Al's temple and then his chest. A heavy weight landed on his stomach and then another on his legs.

Jason got to his feet, leaving his friends to hold Al down, and spat on the floor. He sneered at Al, then turned again towards Scorpius. "Take. It. Back," he said in a low voice.

"I _won't_," said Scorpius. His shoulders were raised and his hands were curled into fists. When Jason drew back his arm to hit him again, Scorpius didn't even try to defend himself. He just closed his eyes.

Al twisted frantically and shouted, "Scorpius!"

"What is the meaning of this?" All the boys snapped their heads around to gape at Headmistress McGonagall as she emerged from the Staff Room, eyes flashing. Sinistra, Flitwick and Smith followed on her heels.

The boys sitting on top of Al leapt off. Al tried to sit up, but a nasty bolt of pain shot through the left side of his chest and he stayed where he was.

"Malfoy and Potter were fighting," said Jason, glib as anything. "We were trying to pull them apart." The other Slytherin boys nodded.

Al turned enough to see Scorpius slouched against the wall with his head down. His hair hung in his face, obscuring his expression. The front of his robes were wet with blood.

McGonagall pursed her lips and said, "That will be twenty points from each of your houses." She held up her hand when Jason started to protest. "We do not brawl at Hogwarts."

Jason and his friends looked at each other and shrugged, then ran out onto the grounds.

Al blinked slowly. When he opened his eyes again, he saw McGonagall looming above him. Smith stood slightly behind her, smirking, but his face went blank when he noticed Al looking at him.

"Are you quite all right, Mr Potter?"

"I think I hurt my rib. I can't move."

McGonagall sighed. "Aurora? We're going to need to levitate him to the Hospital Wing." She turned to Scorpius, who was being attended to by Flitwick, and for a moment she looked just as she had outside the greenhouse in October. Her voice softened. "I think Mr Malfoy will need some attention from Poppy too. You'll see him there, Filius?"

"Of course."

Professor Flitwick took Scorpius by the arm and led him up the stairs.

Al waited, staring up at the ceiling. He winced as Professor Sinistra cast Levicorpus, but it only hurt for a second. Floating up the stairs past all the other students was incredibly embarrassing, so Al closed his eyes and didn't think about it. He didn't think about anything. As they reached the third floor and approached the Hospital Wing, he fell asleep. By the time he woke up, Scorpius had been treated and sent back home to Malfoy Manor.

This time, he did not come back.


	7. Into the Air

Into the Air

Something had gone wrong with the cooling charms at the Ministry and the summer heat made dad's office stifling.

"Hurry up, Harry," said Mum. "Hermione wants us there by three and you know how she gets when we're late." She absently brushed a lock of hair out of Lily's eyes. Lily scowled and pushed her hand away. James stood by the shelves examining the action figures.

"I'll just be a second. It's just the one file…" Dad frowned and flipped through the parchments.

"You couldn't have picked it up before we left?"

"I could have. If I'd remembered to. Which I didn't."

The heat made everyone grumpy. Al sat perched on his dad's desk. He glanced about the office, listless and remembering how fascinating he'd found it when he was a child. His dad put one hand on his shoulder and gave him a quick smile. Al glanced at him, then looked at the floor.

"The new Titus figure has a tiny little wand," said James.

"Has it?" said Dad. "Careful with that one, James. It has a tendency to-"

James yelped and dropped the toy, then put his fingers in his mouth.

"-shoot off sparks if you move its arms."

"Ah cah see haht," said James around his fingers.

Al sighed and rolled his eyes.

He'd thought things might get better once he left school for the summer; maybe he wouldn't miss Scorpius as much when not surrounded by constant reminders of things they'd done together. He'd been a fool. The empty days just gave him more time to go over everything he'd done wrong.

And to wonder what he could have done differently.

His heart ached all the time. He woke up in the morning, desperately clinging to the remnants of his dreams, and then hid his head beneath his pillow. He even clung to the bad dreams - the ones in which Al chased Scorpius through Hogwarts, always too slow and too clumsy to catch him, or the ones where Al stood helpless and immobilised as Scorpius danced on top of the ramparts of the Astronomy Tower until he missed a step and toppled out of sight. They were awful, but they had Scorpius in them. Al could see his face and hear his voice again.

Al didn't mind the nightmares. It was the good dreams that made him curl up and bite his fist. He'd be enveloped in the feel and smell of Scorpius's skin, clutching him tight with the whisper of Scorpius's breath tickling his ear, when something would shift and he'd know he was about to wake up a lose him all over again.

Al had only sent Scorpius one owl since he'd left Hogwarts. He didn't get a response. He wanted to be angry. And he was. A little bit. Mostly he just missed him like he imagined he'd miss one of his limbs if he lost it in an accident.

The Book of Honesty caught his eye. On a whim, he picked it up. It was heavy and bound with thick grey leather.

He heard a snort and looked up to see James smirking at him. Something snapped. A voice inside Al that had always been meek and quiet began to scream.

"I'm in love with Scorpius," he said, and James's smirk fell away. Al spoke louder, gripping the book tightly enough to make his fingers hurt. "I'm gay and I love Scorpius."

Al looked at Mum, who had covered her mouth with her hand but was gazing at Al with love in her eyes. Then he looked at Lily, who grinned from ear to ear. He chanced a peek at James. His brother's expression was unreadable - his lips were pressed together and his brow was creased.

Al took a deep breath. "And I'll never be an Auror," he said, then glanced down at the book just to be sure. It stayed the same pale shade of grey. Al lifted his face. He looked at his father.

There was no disgust and not the slightest bit of disappointment in his father's expression - only bewilderment.

"Do they even let poofs become Aurors?" asked James.

Al threw the book at him as hard as he could.

James flinched and caught the book on reflex. "Joking! I was joking. I'm sorry. I've suspected, actually. You two were so joined at the hip." James took a deep breath. "And it's fine. I don't care. I'm totally fine with it, it doesn't bother me at all."

Al's mind was rumbling and stuttering like a faulty engine. He glared at James until his brother looked down at the book in his hands. It had turned pink.

"Oh, fuck!" James dropped the book and Lily swatted him on the head. His mum made an exasperated sound.

Al leapt off his dad's desk and bolted out the door.

As he pelted through the Aurors' office, he heard his father shout his name. Al didn't stop. He kept going until he reached the lifts. He found one just about to close and leapt inside. As the doors slid shut, his father called him again.

The bang and clatter of the ascending lift mirrored the landscape inside his head. Once it reached ground level and the doors opened, Al began to run again. He headed straight for the first empty Floo he saw and jumped into the green flames, saying "Malfoy Manor."

He needed to see Scorpius. If he didn't see Scorpius right away he'd explode.

With great relief, Al managed to crawl out of a Floo connected fireplace in a bedroom somewhere in the Manor. Mr Malfoy had once said that their Floo would always be open to him, and apparently the promise still held true.

He stood quietly in the room, catching his breath and thinking about what he'd done. Lily had known and Al was pretty sure his mum had too. James… Well, it was a better reaction than Al had anticipated. At least James had tried. Al had no idea what his dad had thought. He'd looked hurt and confused. Al had tried so, so hard never to hurt him, never to disappoint or upset him, because his dad had already gone through more pain than anyone should ever have to. Al pushed his hands into his hair and squeezed his eyes shut. He'd failed at that too.

He wouldn't fail Scorpius. He would save him. Even if Scorpius didn't want saving, Al would find a way to do it.

He brushed himself off, then crept out of the room and wandered around the eerily silent house until he found a downward staircase. When Al had almost reached the bottom of it, Diddle walked around a corner carrying a tray laden with a silver teapot. He leapt a foot in the air when he saw Al. The tea made a terrible mess. Apologising profusely, Al tried to help the elf clean up, but was given an indignant look. Diddle snapped his fingers and the tray, teapot and mess all vanished.

"Diddle wasn't informed that his mistress was having visitors. Diddle would have prepared refreshments. It has been a long time since visitors has come to Malfoy Manor. Is Albus Potter looking for Master Malfoy?"

Al nodded.

Diddle wrung his hands. "Master Malfoy is in the study. He… Diddle has been forbidden to clean in there."

Al leapt down the remainder of the staircase.

"The mess is not Diddle's fault!" called Diddle.

Al turned a corner and went down another staircase until he was on the ground floor. He reached the door to Mr Malfoy's study. It was closed. He tightened his hand around the knob… then stopped.

His heart pounded. What if Scorpius didn't want to see him? What if he sent him away? Al had been a fool. Scorpius hadn't answered his owl. Going to the Manor had been a ridiculous thing to do.

He thought about leaving. He thought about going home, waiting for summer to end, going back to Hogwarts.

If he didn't see Scorpius right then and there, he didn't want to do anything at all.

He turned the knob and walked into the study.

It was dark. The curtains had been tied shut and Al had to blink his eyes to adjust them to the dim light. Candles of all shapes and sizes burned on nearly every surface. They dripped wax onto the floor, over the seats of chairs and down Mr Malfoy's desk. Once Al could see, he took a breath and then cringed at the smell of the dank, musty air.

Al moved deeper into the gloom and parchment crackled beneath his feet. He kicked aside the crumpled ball, and squinted. Toward the back of the study a small form hunched on the floor, surrounded by a moat of books and parchment. Al stepped closer. The only sound in the room was the faint scratch of a quill's nub.

"Scorpius," Al whispered. The scratching stopped.

Scorpius lifted his head and self-hatred for not going after him sooner bit through Al's chest. Scorpius's face was bone pale apart from the purple rings under his eyes. His hair hung limp and his lips were cracked. There were ink-stains on his cheek and his fingers were blue from nail to knuckle.

For a moment he stared blankly at Al, his eyes deep and empty. Then a tremor went through his body and his face brightened. "Al!" he said. "I'm ever so glad to see you."

One of the books started screaming; Al kicked it shut with his foot. It was impossible to walk without knocking over a pile of books. Several shelves in the bookcases had been cleared and now held an assortment of jars, bottles and instruments of various sizes, shapes and materials. The jars appeared to contain dirt and were labelled with Scorpius's tiny script: _March 23, 13:00, 1 kWm2, Mg=12ppm, Hg=0.7–42 μgm3, Irradiance: Direct + Circumsolar - Wsup*m-sup2*nm-…_ It meant nothing to Al.

The books Scorpius had collected around himself had titles such as _The Use of Human Bones in Necromantic Potion Brewing_, _Beyond Cruciatus_, and _The Origins of the Curse_. Others had titles in Latin and other languages Al didn't recognise. They all seemed to deal with dark magic.

Long sheets of parchment had been stuck to the walls. Some bore complicated looking calendars; others were covered with charts and diagrams interwoven with Scorpius's handwriting. In the centre of the wall opposite Mr Malfoy's desk hung a new portrait. It showed a man haloed by sunlight and lifting his arms towards the heavens. A shining white banner bearing the name _HYPERION_ in gold letters rippled across the bottom.

"Hyperion," said Scorpius, following Al's gaze. "The Titan god of light. According to _Bibliotheca Historica _he was the first to make a study of the movements of the sun, moon and stars. He discovered how heavenly bodies effect the changing seasons and he brought this knowledge to humanity." Scorpius raised a shaking hand to his temple, smearing it with ink. "He was the father of Helios, the sun god."

Scorpius's eyes seemed to have grown bigger since Al had last seen him. His cheekbones were definitely sharper.

"My father knew when he named me," Scorpius continued, his voice laced with fever. "He knew what I was meant to do. And that's why he had to die - so I'd have a reason."

Al cradled his elbows in his palms. "And what are you meant to do, Scorpius?"

Scorpius beamed. "I'm going to eradicate dark magic from the world." As he smiled a tiny bit of blood spilled from his cracked lower lip and trickled down his chin.

Al shuddered.

How could he not have foreseen this? Scorpius had all but told him what he was planning to do. How could Al have left him on his own for so long? He stepped forward, ignoring Scorpius's protests as his feet disarranged the books and parchments. Al reached down and took hold of Scorpius's upper arms. Scorpius gaped up at him. Al pulled him up, but Scorpius's knees wobbled and wouldn't stay braced.

Looking down at his papers in distress as Al struggled to hold him up, Scorpius said, "Al, what are you doing?"

"You need a bath. You need to eat something. You need to change your clothes."

"I'll lose my place." Scorpius pushed at Al's chest and wriggled, arching away from him.

"You can find your place again later!"

He hadn't meant to make Scorpius flinch, but at least it worked. He allowed Al to help him walk through the study. Al yanked the door open and Scorpius scrunched up his face up against the light. Al blinked and pulled him out into the corridor.

Apparently Diddle had informed Mrs Malfoy of Al's presence, because Al almost walked straight into her. He gasped, but she didn't bat an eye. Scorpius shifted in Al's arms and Al had to squeeze him tight to keep from letting go."

"Mother," said Scorpius. "Al's here. Isn't that brilliant?"

Scorpius's mother ran her eyes up and down her son's body. Her lips trembled and she turned to Al. "Will you be staying, Mr Potter?"

Al went still. "Call me 'Al'?" he said after a moment.

"Yes, fine, Al. Will you be staying? I've had Diddle prepare a guest room. It's very comfortable and has a view of the gardens."

"Er… Well, if it's okay with y-"

"It would be a great favour to me and Scorpius if you were to stay, Al." She touched Al's hand where it gripped Scorpius's shoulder. "You are very welcome."

"I... I'll have to check with… Yeah. Yes. I'd like to stay, thank you, Mrs Malfoy."

She waved her hand and her smile made her cheek dimple. "Call me Astoria." The smile and gay manner fell away as suddenly as they'd appeared. She looked back to her son and then ran shaking fingers across her mouth. "Scorpius has a bath adjoining his bedroom. And I'll have the elves prepare some supper."

"Okay." Al began ushering Scorpius towards the stairs.

"Don't let Diddle touch anything!" Scorpius called back to his mother. "Don't even let him in."

Scorpius's bedroom looked exactly like the Room of Requirement - or the reverse of that. The room at Hogwarts hadn't had a bathroom attached, at least not one that Al had noticed. Though when they shuffled through a discrete door in the far corner, there it was - all white marble and silver with golden torch sconces on the walls and an actual chandelier hanging from the ceiling. Al couldn't help but laugh, although it was possible he was a bit hysterical.

Scorpius stood on unsteady feet and let Al remove his robes and pants. Any amusement Al had felt at Scorpius's ridiculous bathroom fluttered away at the sight of Scorpius's body. He swallowed back a sob. He wouldn't cry. He needed to be strong for Scorpius. "Have you been eating anything at all?" he whispered.

"What? Oh. Diddle brings me my meals, but it takes time and ruins my concentration. I'm fine, really. I don't need to eat very much."

"You're skin and bones," said Al. He turned away, glad to avoid looking at Scorpius for a moment, and began to fiddle with the taps on the bath. There were five of them, all odd shapes and sizes, and they each did different things. Several knobs poured out gorgeous smelling froth; it took Al a few tries before he figured out which one made the bath fill with water.

Carefully, he helped Scorpius climb in. The bath was so large and deep that Al worried Scorpius would slide in over his head, so he removed his own clothes and got in as well.

Scorpius smiled and leaned in to kiss Al, and despite the heat of the bath, Al went cold. Scorpius tasted sour and wrong. Al hadn't been expecting the kiss. He shuddered into it, but then pulled softly away, saying, "Let me get you cleaned up."

He filled his hand with liquid soap from the long thin tap with the lever and began to rub it over Scorpius's body. He could feel Scorpius's bones beneath his skin. Al ran his hands over Scorpius's chest, over his arms and shoulders. He lifted his arms and washed beneath them. Scorpius placidly allowed himself to be manipulated. He gazed at Al with his starved and shadowed eyes and smiled his dreamy smile. Al moved on to Scorpius's back and legs. He washed Scorpius's bits, which were soft and not remotely tempting just then.

He had Scorpius turn round until he was sitting between Al's legs and began to wash his matted hair. Scorpius hummed and ran his hands down Al's thighs and knees.

Now that Scorpius couldn't see him, Al's breath hitched. He couldn't stop the tears, although he did his best not to make any noise. It was all too much. He didn't know what he was feeling. He didn't know what he was supposed to feel.

Maybe it was the steam, but he found it a little hard to breathe. He stopped massaging soap into Scorpius's scalp and leaned forward to kiss him at the spot where his neck met his shoulder. He kept his face there, drinking in the slick warmth of Scorpius's skin, and squeezed him.

"You'll see, Al," said Scorpius. "Everything's going to be all right."

Once they'd got out and dried off, they found clean robes and underwear laid out for both of them on Scorpius's bed. Al helped Scorpius dress. He put on the pants and light, silky robes that were meant for him, but felt strange and naked without any trousers underneath.

They went downstairs to the dining room. It was laid formally with candelabras, crystal glasses and silver cutlery. Astoria sat at one end. Her hair was up and she was wearing different robes - red velvet and far too heavy for the weather. She sat stiffly in her chair, her back straight, and smiled when she saw Al and Scorpius enter the room.

Scorpius stared at the empty chair opposite Astoria. "Must we use the dining room, Mother? Couldn't we eat in the kitchen?"

"Don't be ridiculous, darling. We have a guest."

Scorpius stayed still until Al ushered him to a chair and made him sit down. Al saw that his own place had been laid opposite, so he walked all the way around the long table and took his seat. The china plate in front of him gleamed. He folded his hands in his lap.

Scorpius continued to look at Mr Malfoy's vacant chair, until Al dug his fingernails into the tablecloth and said, "Tell me about your research, Scorpius."

Scorpius turned to Al, his face alight, and began to speak. "I'm doing research on all sorts of things, Al, but at the moment I'm focussing on photosynthesis and the effects of light intensity and temperature on the rate of carbon assimilation. At constant temperature, the rate of carbon assimilation varies with irradiance, initially increasing as the irradiance increases. However at higher irradiance this relationship no longer holds and-

"Darling-" interrupted Astoria.

"Hush, mother. I'm telling Al." Scorpius gestured over his dinner plate, one finger sketching a shape in the air. "I've been measuring the effects of sunlight on the mineral content of soil in order to determine what level of light intensity is needed to eradicate the pollutants in the blood of people who display aggressive and antisocial behaviour."

"Scorpius!" said Astoria, the cords in her neck standing out.

Scorpius's shoulders hunched and he crossed his arms in front of his chest. Al had never seen his face like that before - all scrunched up, like a child who'd been denied sweets at a party.

Astoria continued, "I cannot believe that your methodology is-"

"You're just jealous because I won't let you see."

Astoria's eyes went shiny and she pressed her lips together. Then she turned to Al with a forced smile. "What can be keeping those elves?" She flourished her wand and a string of tinkling bells emerged from the tip, floated ringing through the air and then vanished.

A moment later bowls of greyish-green soup appeared before each of them.

"Crème vichyssoise glacée," said Astoria. "Perfect for a summer evening."

Al couldn't have cared less about eating. He took a spoonful to be polite. It was cold and actually rather delicious. He ate a few more mouthfuls, while keeping his eyes on Scorpius, who was once again staring at his father's empty chair.

"Eat your soup, Scorpius," said Al. "It's good."

Scorpius gave him a blank look.

"Eat it," said Al.

"I'm not hungry."

Al put his own spoon down. "Just try one spoonful."

Scorpius looked down at his bowl of soup but didn't otherwise move. Al pushed his chair back and got to his feet. He walked around the table, feeling both Astoria and Scorpius's eyes on him, and then knelt down next to Scorpius. He picked up Scorpius spoon, filled it with soup, and held it up to Scorpius's lips. Scorpius's eyelashes fluttered. He looked into Al's eyes and with a slight tremor his lips parted. Al fed him the soup.

Scorpius swallowed it.

"See?" asked Al. "It's nice."

Scorpius nodded. Al fed him another spoonful. When a bit dribbled down Scorpius's chin, Al wiped it away with his thumb. Watching him eat eased the quiver of panic in Al's chest. Little by little, Scorpius ate until the bowl was empty.

"There," said Al. "Good."

"I'm sleepy," said Scorpius.

Al stood and held his hand out. Scorpius took it and got to his feet.

Astoria. She hadn't touched her own food. She gave Al a shaky smile and said, "Thank you."

"It's all right," said Al.

Al led Scorpius out of the dining room and up the stairs. Once they got to Scorpius's bedroom, Al stripped him down to his pants and then took off his own robes. He pulled down the bedcovers. Scorpius climbed into bed and rested his head on one of the pillows. Al crawled in behind him and wrapped him in his arms.

"I love you, Al," said Scorpius, snuggling against him.

Al clenched his face and squeezed Scorpius so hard that Scorpius started to struggle. Al relaxed his arms and whispered, "Sorry."

"It's okay." It only took a few minutes for Scorpius's breathing to become slow and regular. Al stayed awake as long as he could.

When he woke up in the morning he was alone.

Al borrowed one of the Malfoys's owls to send a letter to his mum. He explained that he'd be staying at the Malfoys's and that he'd come home when he was ready. An hour later he received a package full of his clothes and a note telling him that she was worried about him, but she understood. Everyone loved him. No one was upset or angry. She hoped he'd come home soon.

Al carefully folded the letter and put it in his pocket.

He stopped by the kitchen, then went to the study and made Scorpius eat scrambled eggs on toast.

"I'm getting crumbs on the book. Can't this wait?"

"No, it's time for breakfast. If you don't eat now, I know you won't do it later."

"Fine."

Al glanced down at the enormous book open on Scorpius's lap. "What is that, anyway? It looks ancient."

"It's an encyclopaedia of curses."

"Why are you reading that? Merlin - look at this one. It's to plant worms in someone's brain. And here! The 'Skin Shredding' Curse? These are horrible. Put it away."

Scorpius shook his head. "You have to understand dark magic before you can destroy it."

It was afternoon before Al was able to convince Scorpius to take a walk outside in the gardens. Scorpius spent the whole time frowning and glancing up at the sky and insisted on collecting soil samples every few minutes.

The Baoding Spheres were around again. Al had never seen Scorpius use them when he was at home before. Even when he wasn't playing with them, Scorpius would periodically slide his hand into his pocket just to check that they were there.

After the first night, Scorpius refused to leave the study to sleep in his bedroom. Instead, he curled up on a sofa and fell asleep with a book open on his chest. Al tiptoed out and went upstairs to the guest room.

He slept fitfully, constantly being jarred to wakefulness with his heart pounding and unpleasant dreams flicking at the corners of his mind.

"Al." Soft fingers dug into his shoulder. "Al, it's me." His mattress dipped and shuddered as Scorpius crawled in and Al sleepily shifted over to give him room. He woke up a bit more when he realised that Scorpius was naked.

And shivering.

"I can't…" Scorpius's voice was hoarse. "I can't get them out of my head."

The sheets twisted between Al's legs. He kicked them off then snuggled closer to Scorpius, wrapping his arms around him. "Get what out?"

"The black, the acid. It's dripping from the books. The library is heaving with Curses. I don't know how Father stood it."

"Scorpi-"

"Spells to split skin, spells to turn bones to ash, spells to fill your heart with hate, to break you with pain, to send you mad… And I can't hold them all in my head at once. There are too many. I'll never get through them all."

Pressing his forehead into Al's neck, Scorpius squeezed him tighter and whimpered from his throat. Night air blowing in through the open window sent goose pimples shivering over Al's bare skin. "Why are you doing it then?"

With a sigh, Scorpius nuzzled his face against Al, brushing his lips over his jaw. "Al." He shifted, pushing and sliding until he was beneath Al. He squeezed Al's hips with his thighs, and Al rutted forward, helplessly aroused with Scorpius spread out beneath him. Scorpius felt so good, but his lips tasted of salt and his fingers dug tight into Al's back.

"Not while you're crying," Al said.

"I need to," said Scorpius. "You have to. I can't get them out of my head."

"Stop reading the books. I'll tell your mother. I won't let you-"

Scorpius yanked Al's head down and kissed him, wet and violent, his fingers buried in Al's hair. He pressed his hips up. Al gasped, wanting, horrified, close to tears himself. He pushed himself up on his arms, intending to protest, but Scorpius had brought a pot of lube with him. He twisted his slick, oily fingers, pulling away Al's resistance.

Scorpius lay still as Al moved inside him, eyes squeezed shut, jaw clenched. Al kept his eyes open, finally biting down hard on Scorpius's shoulder and shuddering, the sensations still new enough to be shocking. Afterwards he used every trick he'd ever heard, sucking Scorpius down almost into his throat. He used his fingers, used his tongue, didn't even bother to breathe. But Scorpius went soft in his mouth.

Al climbed out of bed and punched the wall, because it wasn't Scorpius's fault. He pressed his forehead against the cool plaster.

The sheets rustled and the bedsprings squeaked. Al turned and leapt on Scorpius. He held him down until Scorpius stopped thrashing. "Stop reading those books," he rasped.

They both stayed quiet. Eventually Scorpius's limbs relaxed and Al let himself fall back asleep.

"There is a James Potter to see you, Master Albus. James Potter will not come in and have refreshments in the drawing room. He insists that Master Albus meets him outside." The elf looked quite put out.

Al took a moment to get over his surprise, then, with a knot in his stomach, he followed Diddle through the entrance hall to the front door. It had been several weeks since he'd stormed out of his dad's office. Mum had sent regular owls and Al had given her short responses, but no one else had tried to communicate with him. He wondered what James wanted, and if it was going to make Al want to hex him. He took a deep breath and stepped outside.

James slouched with his hands shoved in his pockets. He glanced at Al, then looked away again. Al crossed his arms.

"Are you gonna come home?" asked James.

"What do you care?"

James sighed. Still staring off across the gardens, he said, "Hogwarts starts soon. If you don't come home, you won't be ready in time. You need to get your textbooks."

"Did Mum send you?"

James shook his head. "No, she doesn't know I'm here. She reckons we should let you 'work it out on your own'. That you'll come home when you're ready."

"Yeah, that's right. I'll come home when I'm ready." When Scorpius was better.

He hadn't thought of Hogwarts, hadn't realised how soon school would be starting up again. With a shiver running up his spine, Al realised that he wasn't going to go back. He could imagine what would happen to Scorpius without him. There was no way he could leave.

James took his hands out of his pockets and ran his fingers through his hair, eyes upward. "Look. Al. I'm really sorry about… that fucking book. I… I meant what I said. Or I wanted to. I want to."

Al shifted on his feet, looking at James. One of the peacocks wailed in the distance.

James finally met Al's eyes. "I don't care that you fancy blokes. It's just… You're my little brother. I thought I knew you inside out."

Shrugging one shoulder, Al said, "It's fine." He could see James searching his face. Al sighed and said, "It's really all right."

"So, you'll come home?"

"No. I can't." Al blinked. "Scorpius needs me right now." James didn't get it. He wasn't even trying to understand.

James's jaw twitched. "How long is he going to need you?"

"I don't know. As long as he does."

James stared at him. "I'm going to Egypt with Uncle Bill next week. I'll be gone until January."

Al stared back. He didn't know what James wanted. "That… sounds good. I hope you have a great time. Bring me a souvenir."

James drew his hands out of his pockets and curled them into fists. "So, that's it. You're choosing him over us. That pathetic little poof over your own family."

Al's mouth fell open. "Scorpius _needs_ me!"

With a finger pointed towards Al, James took a step forward. Al stumbled away from him. "He's not your family!"

"He's as good as!" Al squared his shoulders and lifted his chin. James's eyebrows shot up. "He's better, because he knows me for who I really am! I don't have to pretend with him."

James's lips parted. He shook his head and then sneered. "You never had to pretend for us, Al. You think Dad cares that you aren't going to be an Auror? You think that was even _news_ to him? He couldn't give a shit. He just wants you to be happy. And you've just left him, sitting there, eating his heart out and wondering what he did wrong."

Fuck, fuck. Al's vision went blurry, but he tried not to back down. "You're lying." It came out a whisper.

"You know I'm not. You're a selfish little prick."

"Fuck you."

James snorted.

Al's heart felt clenched and heavy. He didn't think of his dad. He didn't imagine what his dad was feeling or thinking. If he let himself, he'd be torn in half. "Go away, James."

"Seriously?"

"_Go away_." Al gritted his teeth.

James jabbed his finger at Al again. "Selfish."

He wasn't going to let James see him cry. He turned his back.

"Right then," said James. "Fine. Just run away. Again."

Al started walking towards the front door.

"That hat didn't know what it was doing when it sorted you into Gryffindor," James shouted. "You're a bloody coward."

Al froze. James's words were tiny fingers with sharp nails scraping down the back of his skull. Leaving his brother behind, he ran through the still open front door.

Al lurched through the entrance Hall and suddenly he was face to face with a portrait of Scorpius's father. He'd wondered if there would be one, but this was the first time he'd actually seen it. Mr Malfoy stared down at Al, his eyes cold and accusing. Al's temples pounded. He stumbled back into the study. Scorpius was bent over his parchment, scribbling like mad. His breakfast was untouched, the eggs dried and rubbery-looking, the toast curling at the edges.

"How long is this going to go on?" Al asked.

Scorpius looked at him through unfocussed eyes. "Until I'm finished, of course."

Al wanted to scream. He wanted to shake him. He wanted to batter his own head against the wall. "And when will that be?"

Scorpius narrowed his eyes. "Soon," he said. "I'm… I just need to figure out the right spell to seal the device." He continued to gaze at Al's face. Finally, he set down his quill and sat up. "Here. I'll show you."

Al did his best to push aside thoughts of brothers, fathers and mistaken hats and moved as close as the piles of books and parchments surrounding Scorpius would allow. Scorpius selected a tall red book and opened it up on the floor in front of him. He leafed through the yellowing pages until he came to a diagram labelled: _Phoebus Messor_.

"This is it." Scorpius's eyes went wide as he looked down at the page. "This is the magical device that will let me collect sunlight."

The diagram showed the steps in the construction of a box-shaped object. Along side the drawings Scorpius had scribbled a series of words: _Silicium, Phosphorus, Boron_ and formulas: _SO2 + C Si CO2_. There was also a list of Latin words that looked like spells. Most of them had been crossed out, but several - _Sigillum, Contineo Angustus_, and _Sideris Protractum_ - had been underlined and circled.

"What happens once you have the sunlight?"

"It's complicated. I'm working on a potion. I haven't got the formula exactly right yet, but I'm close."

"A potion." Al scratched his head, scanning the page. The diagram looked impossibly complicated. "And then what?"

"Then?" Scorpius's thin face broke into a smile. "Then, I save the world."

Al slid back into the routine of making sure Scorpius ate and bathed. Sometimes Scorpius would gobble his food down so quickly Al worried he'd choke. Other times Al had to personally feed him each mouthful. Often Scorpius refused to eat at all. He said food sitting in his stomach made his mind sluggish.

Scorpius looked increasingly grey and fragile. He'd gained a little weight, but his arms and legs were still too thin and his hair had lost its shine.

On the evening four days after James's visit, Al sat hunched in an armchair, watching Scorpius work. Scorpius wasn't getting better. If anything, he was getting worse. Why couldn't Al help him? Why couldn't he do anything? Scorpius was dying before his eyes and all he could do was watch it happen.

It was late. Al thought about going up to his bedroom, but Scorpius hadn't eaten anything since breakfast. He looked around the study and focussed on Mr Malfoy's desk, which still held the same quills and firewhisky decanter Al remembered from when Mr Malfoy had been alive. He thought back to that first chat they'd had in which Mr Malfoy had told Al he was grateful that Scorpius had him for a friend. He could hear the tone of his voice, almost smell the fire crackling in the background. He'd looked at Al so intensely.

Blinking slowly, Al let his head fall against the back of the chair. He'd just rest for a second and then get up and fetch Scorpius something to eat.

Currents of fatigue grasped at his limbs, pulling him downward. There was a strange sucking sound coming from the shadows in the corner. Al didn't move, but looked closer - beside a delicate looking floor vase sat a lumpy shape he couldn't quite make out. The sucking became heavy breathing and the shadowy form took on the silhouette of a man, bent over on his knees with his hands over his face. He was weeping. As the man sucked in breaths between sobs, the walls of the study seemed to contract. Al cringed against the back of the chair.

The man's spine twisted, and with a wail of grief he rose to his feet. He took the vase and threw it against the wall, shattering it to pieces. Al clutched the armrests. He was too heavy. He could barely move.

Mr Malfoy wore long, black robes that rippled down his body like ink in water. His hair gleamed white. He looked thinner than Al remembered, his cheekbones sharp, his eyes bloodshot and circled with shadows.

"Do you see him, Albus?" Mr Malfoy asked. "Do you see what has become of my son since I died?" He reached out an impossibly long arm, took hold of Al's jaw, then forcibly turned Al's head to look at Scorpius. Instead of Scorpius, however, a small, grey, dull-eyed hare was splayed on a pile of black-bound books. The hare's legs were unnaturally long, its body skeletal. Its ribs quivered, rising and falling faster than Al had thought possible.

"He's fading," rasped Mr Malfoy. He released Al's jaw. Then, with a howl that split Al right down the centre, he swept his arms across the room, sending books candles and parchment flying. The cyclone of debris circled him with a thunderous rustle, hiding him from view. Then all at once everything thumped flat to the floor. Mr Malfoy stood sobbing, his hands curled into fists and pressed against his eyes.

Al couldn't watch. He looked at the hare again. While its ribs continued to flutter, its throat was now a wet, raw gash. Bright red blood matted the fur around the hare's neck and dripped thickly down the spines of the books. Al whimpered and squirmed.

"He's still alive," said Mr Malfoy. "But you need to be quick."

Al tried to push himself up and found that he was stuck. He glanced down at his arms. His skin was sewn to the chair's upholstery. He attempted to yank himself free and then moaned at the pain of it.

"You'll have to try harder than that," said Mr Malfoy. He stood again, looming high, his golden head bright against the black of the ceiling.

"I'm doing the best I can," Al whispered.

The light around Mr Malfoy's head grew brighter. Al squinted and turned away. The light grew so intense he could no longer see. He whined and struggled, eyes squeezed tightly shut, but to no avail. He was being blinded. "Stop. Stop, it's too much. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

Strong fingers closed around his shoulder and shook him. With a gasp, Al wrenched himself awake. Astoria's wand, aglow with a Lumos charm, was inches from his face.

"Are you all right, dear?" she asked, then withdrew her wand. Al gaped at her and tried to catch his breath. "You seemed to be having a nightmare."

"Yeah," Al gasped. "I was."

She gave him a sympathetic look, then turned towards Scorpius, who was curled up asleep on the sofa. She knelt at his side and brushed a lock of hair off his face. "He looks so peaceful like this."

She stood and walked towards the desk. Al noticed that she'd taken the parchments on which Scorpius had been working and piled them together. Scorpius would be upset by that.

Al inhaled deeply and tried to banish the remnants of dream still licking at his mind. He got up and hugged himself. Then he moved to watch as Astoria spread out one of the parchments and ran her finger over the diagrams and scribbled words. She shook her head, rolled the parchment up and set it to the side.

"What does it say?" asked Al.

She gave him a sharp look, then unrolled another parchment. Al watched her eyes move across it. She frowned.

"I can't make head or tail of it," said Al. "He tries to explain it to me, but I-"

"It's nonsense." Astoria released her hold on the parchment and it snapped back into a roll. "Mad scribblings. It's as if he took myths and fairytales and tried to makes sense of them using arithmancy."

Al shivered. "Surely some of it is right." His mind still wasn't clear. He thought he might need to be sick. "He's been working so hard. And he's brilliant."

"He thinks he can destroy dark magic using the power of the sun."

Al looked at Astoria; he saw the lines around her mouth and across her forehead. Her eyes were blue rather than grey, but something about their shape was pure Scorpius. "It won't work?" he asked. "Maybe he sees things we can't."

She gave him a tired smile. "Dark magic doesn't come from nature. It comes from human nature. You can't destroy it without destroying humanity itself." She leaned forward, resting her hands against the desk.

Al swallowed. The study was deathly quiet. He could feel his heart beating in his chest. "Should we tell him?"

She laughed. "I've tried. He just forbade me from looking at his work." She unrolled another parchment. "Draco was the one who could talk to him." She stroked her index finger along one of Scorpius's scribbled sentences. "I always get it wrong." She rolled the parchment back up.

"But he'll keep trying and trying. He won't stop. What's going to happen to him?"

"Mediwizards, I suppose. St Mungo's. More potions."

Al turned his face away. Scorpius made a soft sound and shifted on the sofa.

Astoria nodded to herself. "I'm…" She took a breath. "So very grateful, Albus. So grateful he has you."

Al's eyes welled up.

She didn't say anything else, but squeezed his shoulder as she passed on her way out the door.

It was almost completely dark in the study. Al thought of Scorpius locked away in St Mungo's. He thought of going home and being without him again. There was nothing for Al, nothing drawing him into his future, only jaws that bit and gnawed as they dragged him down into an endless murky sea.

The heavy drawn curtains muffled the sounds of night - faintly chirping crickets and distant peacocks. The morning birds hadn't yet started to sing.

Al looked at Scorpius again and gasped when he saw that his eyes were open.

"Don't let them send me to hospital." Scorpius blinked and then slowly pushed himself up. The darkness flushed all colour from his skin. "Don't let her do it."

Al went to him and gathered him into his arms.

"I know it looks mad," said Scorpius, leaning into him and clinging. "But it's real. It will work. Just give me a little bit more time."

Al pressed a kiss to the top of his head. "I don't know what to do. You're… I'm scared, Scorpius."

Scorpius pulled him closer. "I'll eat more. I'll take breaks. I'll do anything. Please. The potions are walking death."

"No potions," said Al. "No hospital. I won't let them. But you've got to stop."

"Give me until tomorrow. When the sun comes up. Just give me 'til then."

"Shhh." Al leant back, moving so Scorpius could lie on top of him with his head on Al's chest. He stroked Scorpius's hair and held him until he stopped shaking. "It's okay. It's going to be fine. I won't let anything bad happen to you, I promise."

It was a chilly August morning, but the sun was already bright and burning away the mist. There were no clouds in the sky. Al and Scorpius stood on a hill in a far corner of the Manor gardens. No one had seen them sneak out.

Scorpius held his hand over his eyes, shielding them from the sun. Al stood next to him, clutching his borrowed broom.

"How far up do we have to go?" asked Al.

"I'm not sure yet. Pretty high. I'll need to calculate the solar constant. There's a spell for that, although I've never used it before. And I'll need to put the Phoebus in a position perpendicular to the incoming solar radiation, which is relative to the tilt of the Earth's axis at the moment we reach the correct altitude. So, I can't say yet. We'll have to see."

Scorpius reached into the sling pouch he wore over one shoulder and took out the 'Phoebus'. It was an octagonal box plated with hammered gold. The sun glanced off its flat surfaces, making Al squint. A different rune had been etched on each of its eight sides. Scorpius undid the latch and opened it. Layers of blue, reflective crystals coated the insides. Otherwise, it was empty.

"This is it," he said, and turned to Al. "It's all ready. It should work. It will work."

"It will." Al nodded.

Scorpius closed the box and put it back into the pouch. His hand emerged clutching the Baoding Spheres, but instead of manipulating them with his hand, Scorpius waved his wand and levitated them to float, grinding against each other, right above his head. Al watched them for a bit. They shone bright as candle flames.

Scorpius straddled his broom and pushed up into the air. He hovered, looking down at Al and waiting. Al took a deep breath, then climbed onto his own broom and rose to be level with Scorpius. Scorpius smiled at him. Al smiled back. His stomach churned and his limbs felt cold and shaky. Scorpius turned his broom and zipped skyward. Al took a breath and followed.

They climbed and climbed, the air growing colder the higher they rose. Wind tore tears from the corners of Al's eyes and battered against his face. He gripped his broom hard, swallowing down the escalating bite of terror. The ground fell away - hedges became lines, tree became spots, lakes were distant patches of blue.

Scorpius's grey robes fluttered over his back. He rode forward, bent over his broom until it was nearly cradled to his chest. They were going impossibly high. Al called out to Scorpius, but the wind tore his words away. Helplessly, he continued to follow him upwards.

By the time Scorpius came to a halt, the tips of Al's nose and ears were numb with cold. Each breath took an effort to pull into his lungs. Despite the icy air, the sun beat down on them with crystalline force.

Al floated until he was hovering at Scorpius side. "Yeah?" he shouted.

Scorpius nodded.

He reached into the pouch with one hand and took out the Phoebus. He gazed at it, licking his lips, and leant forward. For a second Al thought he would kiss it, but instead Scorpius's lips formed words and bright silver wings sprouted from either side of the box. Beaming, Scorpius flicked the latch with his thumb and the lid fell open. He lifted the box towards the sun. Its wings began to buzz and it took off, circling Scorpius. It dipped up and down, but never moved further away than a foot or two.

Al blinked in wonder as Scorpius laughed. It looked like a Snitch. Al wondered if Scorpius had modelled it after one on purpose.

Then Scorpius pulled his wand. With a look of intense concentration, he pointed it up and began to recite a series of spells. Al couldn't hear the words; he could only see his mouth moving. Scorpius looked bright and fiercely determined. One spell held the Phoebus in place. Another did something to the air above it.

"What are you doing?" Al asked, leaning as close to Scorpius's ear as he could.

"I'm trying to create a tunnel… upper layers of the atmosphere. We can… so high without suffocating. I need to draw the sol… electromagnetic energy…"

Al could barely hear him. He stopped trying to listen; even if he did catch the words he wouldn't understand them. He gripped his broom tightly and waited.

His mind felt light and empty. There was nothing for miles but space and air and the droning music of the Baoding spheres as they danced in the air above Scorpius's shining head. The balls ground together, chiming and melding with the roar of the wind. They were so bright. Their music drilled through Al's brain until he could barely think.

Sunlight whitened Scorpius's face, turning his hair to mercury. His fingers gripped the handle of his broom. Al looked at Scorpius's white knuckles an acidic knot twisted in his chest. The earth was green and brown beneath them - an expanse of patchwork framed by mountains. It felt distant. Unreachable. The entire world had faded to a dream within the consuming embrace of the sun.

He looked up and for several long seconds let his eyes burn as if it didn't matter.

Maybe it didn't.

Mum would cry and cry. Dad. Dad would…

"Scorpius." Al shouted, moving closer. "I'm not feeling well."

"Just a little bit longer." Al could barely hear him. "I've almost got it."

"It's not happening." Each word burned through Al's throat. "We've got to go down." His tears dried almost instantly, leaving icy patches of salt on his cheeks.

"You go. If you need to."

Al stayed still. "Come down, Scorpius."

"Al," said Scorpius, "I'm not coming down until it works."

With a beatific smile, Scorpius turned toward the sun. Al squinted. It had been so long. Such a long time since he'd seen Scorpius's cheeks shine, since there had been light in his eyes. And now Scorpius positively glowed, illuminated in pure golden sunlight that swept away the shadows - a bright and vivid flame. His white hair whipped about in the wind, and he laughed, head thrown back.

_Scorpius_.

The song of the Baoding Spheres tore away everything but the sound of Al's own heart pounding hard in his chest.

_Scorpius, please_.

Al thought of Scorpius lying grey and listless on the sofa. He thought of thin shoulders bent over a book, eyes bright with fevered focus, and a grim line of lips. Slender, ink-stained fingers flying over the parchment, drawing endless diagrams, scribbling calculations that added up to nothing.

He looked again at the sunlit creature floating before him, made effervescently beautiful with joy. Scorpius's grin widened and happiness splintered through Al's dread and fear, leaving him weightless.

Al turned his broom, imagining the ecstasy of being swallowed by all that light. There was nothing on earth for him without Scorpius. He might as well follow him to the sun.

He wet his cracked lips and tasted salt, then closed his eyes. He was assailed by images - Lily, barely more than three and making daisy chains in the garden, James and Hugo wrestling and knocking over an end table while Mum yelled at them. His dad's face in the bed at St Mungo's after Al came through the door. The photographs on the piano. His own photograph on the piano. He pictured his mother polishing it. He saw his father looking at it and the pain in his eyes almost made Al let go of his broom and fall.

He couldn't. He couldn't leave them, couldn't do to them what the terrorists had done to Scorpius. It was getting harder and harder to breathe and his hands were going numb.

"Scorpius!" he cried. "Please!"

Scorpius turned to him, and Al saw that his cheeks were wet with tears. He smiled at Al - a quick, shaky grin - and shook his head. Then he turned away and shot off, climbing higher, climbing away from Al.

Al screamed a sob and pulled out his wand.

He'd sworn he'd never use the curse again, but he didn't know what else to do.

The dizziness threatened to squeeze his mind shut. He knew he had to act. There was no more time to think. He didn't know if it was right or wrong; he only knew that it meant there would still be hope. And in a way it was Scorpius's father's hand reaching out to save his son as much as it was Al's voice casting the spell. He was doing it for Mr Malfoy as much as he was doing it for Scorpius. Or for himself.

"_Imperio_!"

Scorpius, looking terrifyingly small in the sky far above Al, drew immediately to a halt. The Phoebus and the Baoding Spheres shot straight down towards the Earth.

Al held his wand steady and thought, _Fly down. Don't let go. Land safely_.

Holding his breath, he watched as Scorpius turned and started to descend. He caught a brief glimpse of his pale, blank face as he rushed past, heading towards the ground.

Al felt a surge of relief, although his mind was so fuzzy he could barely think at all. He began to descend. One of his hands slipped off the broom, so he grabbed it again and tightened his hold. There was very little strength left in his muscles. The wind seemed to pummel him even harder descending than it had when he was flying up. He squinted and could just make out the tiny spot that was Scorpius as he headed towards the hill on which they'd stood earlier.

Down, down, down and then a rush of cold horror jolted him awake as he realised he'd passed out for a second and let go of the broom entirely. He gripped it harder between his thighs and tightened his fingers until they burned.

The ground was coming closer. Trees were starting to look like trees again. He saw Scorpius land. There was a dark haired-figure already standing on the hill. Al squinted, wondering who it could be.

The lapse in concentration allowed his broom to slip away and then everything dissolved into the rush and thunder of air as he plummeted towards the ground.

Epilogue

Al sat quietly in a room on the fourth floor of St Mungo's, watching motes dance in the hazy sunlight streaming in through the window. Scorpius lay in bed, deeply asleep. Scorpius spent a lot of time sleeping, and when he was awake he mostly cried or stared blankly at the wall.

Al didn't mind. Scorpius needed to grieve over the death of his father, and that was going to be hard and take a long time. The Healers had explained it. Scorpius hadn't gone mad; he'd just used 'dysfunctional coping strategies'.

Strategies that had come horribly close to killing him. Al still didn't know if that had been Scorpius's intention all along. He only knew that he was ridiculously grateful to be there, watching Scorpius's chest gently rise and fall instead of struggling with his own dysfunctional coping strategies.

Maybe Scorpius was grateful too. Or maybe he secretly hated Al for breaking his word and sending him back to Hospital and potions.

It didn't matter. Scorpius was alive.

Al had regained consciousness in a hospital room of his own. He'd been surrounded by family - not just Mum, Dad, James and Lily, but also Uncle Ron and Aunt Hermione, Rose and Hugo, and Teddy. His dad had wept when Al opened his eyes and asked for him. It had been the first time Al had ever seen his father cry.

James stayed in the corner behind the crowd, his shoulders hunched, hugging himself.

Al owed his life to James. James who hadn't given up on him. James who had come back to apologise and watched Al fly off into the sky only to plummet back down again. James who had managed to slow his fall enough to keep him from dying once he hit the ground. Al had broken both legs, shattered three vertebrae and incurred a mild skull fracture - but he'd survived.

He'd even been well enough to go home after a week, which he did. The mediwitches wouldn't let him visit Scorpius every day, but Al made it to his bedside at least four out of seven.

Scorpius wasn't up to talking much, so Al read to him. He read to him from _Quidditch Daily_ and from a novel called Mindy the _Muggle and Her Enormous Beetroot_, which was hilarious, and even made Scorpius giggle now and then. He read to him from the _Prophet_.

On that particular day the top story was about a new group of terrorists who been caught trying to burn down the Minister for Magic's house. One of them had been caught, but the others were still at large. There was another article about an elderly wizard who'd gone on a rampage with the Killing Curse, murdering fifteen people in a village in Surrey. There were stories of betrayal and corruption. There were stories detailing every human weakness that drove one person to hurt another.

Things hadn't changed. They would never change, at least not in the way Scorpius wanted them to. Al tossed the paper aside.

Scorpius yawned and stretched, his eyes slowly blinking open. When he saw Al, he smiled. Al smiled back and stood up. He bent down to kiss Scorpius, then checked the time before looking through the collection of potion bottles sitting on the bedside table. He selected one and picked it up.

"Do you want the Calming Draught?"

Scorpius shook his head. "Not today. I'm okay today."

"Just Strengthening Solution, then."

Al measured out the correct amount and held it towards Scorpius. Scorpius opened his mouth and closed his lips around the bowl of the spoon. He looked up, and Al wished the doors to the patients' rooms locked from the inside. They didn't, though, as was evidenced by a mediwitch entering the room and stopping short when she saw Al feeding Scorpius his potion.

"Mr Potter." She put her hands on her hips. "We've been over this before. _I_ give Mr Malfoy his potions. You do not. _You_ will find yourself banned from visiting hours if I catch you at it one more time."

She marched over to Al and snatched the bottle from his hand. "Strengthening. Hmm. Well, you do always get it right, I'll give you that."

She hustled Al to the side and set about looking at Scorpius's eyes through a Medi-lense, checking his pulse and the colour of his tongue. "Having a good day, are we?" she asked Scorpius. "I'm glad to see it. The Mind Healer will be by in an hour."

Scorpius's face fell a bit, but he nodded.

"I'll take you for a walk in the Magical Courtyard afterwards so you can get some exercise."

"All right."

"I'll take him," said Al.

The woman looked at him through narrowed eyes, then cocked her head to the side. "All right. You know how to get there."

Al grinned.

The mediwitch fluffed Scorpius's pillow, then walked to the door. Before she left, she turned to Al and said, "You've got the perfect temperament for a Healer, you know? You should look into our training programme once you leave Hogwarts."

Al's cheeks went hot, but in a good way. "That won't be for a while as I'm taking a year off. But I'll keep it in mind."

She smiled and then left, closing the door behind her.

Scorpius had curled up on the bed.

"You're not sleepy again already, are you?" asked Al.

Scorpius wriggled into his pillow. "A bit."

"You're going to turn into a bedbug at this rate."

"That's not very likely, is it? People don't turn into animals or insects unless they're an Animagus or they've been hit with a Transfiguration hex. And you were always terrible at Trans-"

Al laid a finger over Scorpius's lips. "Hush now."

Grey eyes gazed up at him, and Al knew that even if Scorpius was angry with him, it wouldn't last. He crawled into the bed and lay down, wrapping his arms around Scorpius. Scorpius nuzzled closer and buried his head beneath Al's chin. They lay like that, holding each other, until Scorpius fell asleep again.

- The End


End file.
